Blood Memory
by Domini Porter
Summary: Lily Evans likes Bellatrix Black. Bellatrix Black likes blood. Slashy, plotty, sexy. 93% canon compliant! Please note the presence of some heavy darkness, as well as bloodplay. Feel free to review, if yeh want.
1. Prologue

There were days when Lily remembered that she was only eighteen. Not many, but they did happen.

She stared at her left hand, pale and slender; scrutinized the map of veins, studied the canyons between tendons, the sloping hills of knuckles, peninsular fingers. She had never been unduly vain, she knew her own shortcomings and had what she though was a fair picture of herself in her head. Average height, a slim body—except her hips, which were slightly wide—long red hair that she often thought of cutting, if only for convenience. A pretty face, not uncommonly so but pretty nevertheless. She was fond of her nose, and her sparkling green eyes. Lips too thin, she often thought, but with the right kinds of kisses they bloomed a little. On the whole, not an unfortunate portrait.

On the days she remembered she was only eighteen it shifted a little. She saw the parts of her that were no longer coltish; she noticed her increasingly graceful movement. The only time she was secretly proud of her body was on these days. She only remembered she was eighteen when she remembered herself twelve, thirteen, fourteen, awkward and blushing.

Awkward and blushing, stumbling and stammering, eyes too big since they seemed to notice all the wrong things, and disproportionately so. At twelve she had noticed James for the first time, his arrogant swagger through the corridors, his dissolute good looks even at his age, his contemptuous bravado. Thirteen, her eyes like cameras then, taking picture after picture of him as he roamed the grounds with his pack of friends. She had had only the barest idea of attraction, only a lightly sketched notion of lust and of sex drawn in rapid strokes by older girls and snide lectures from Petunia. "You _do_ know what it is, don't you?"

Petunia. Lily was secretly proud of her body when she thought of Petunia's, long and geometric with a face like a donkey and a voice always braying. Lily was secretly proud of everything about herself when she thought of Petunia, especially now, married to that horrible egg of a man and with a fat squalling baby.

Lily stared at her hand again. Agile, tapered fingers, _intelligent_, she had said. Oh, it had been like the best sex when she had said that. To hear _intelligent_ said about any part of her, said in those low tones, pushed from that mouth with that perfect tongue, oh, it made everything else worthwhile. All the mockery, the insults, the occasional curses; she had called Lily's fingers _intelligent_ and Lily loved her forever.

She looked hard at the gold line that severed one of those brilliant digits from the plateau of her hand. James hadn't known why she had wept when he slipped it on; he thought she was overwrought from the joy and _honor_ of it. He had used that word, _honor_, and Lily had sneered at him in her thoughts. As though he knew what it meant.

She was only eighteen, and she _knew_. She had learned about honor from the best, the most knowledgeable and experienced teacher on the subject. One who carried it in her veins carefully, as though it would spill if she moved too suddenly. It wasn't just pureblood, she had said. Oh, it matters, it does, and it's unfortunate that yours isn't, but pureblood was simply a matter of birth and could happen to almost anyone. The thing to remember, darling—

_Darling_, she had said, and Lily had felt faint.

The thing to remember, the thing her darling had so carefully taught, was _honor_.

Lily remembered. She felt the weight of the ring pulling down her hand and in a moment of horror snatched it from her finger and set it on the table. Thank God James hadn't enchanted it. Alice had told her that Frank had enchanted hers and it wouldn't come off. How hateful, Lily thought. How insecure. At least James trusted her enough to wear the ring of her own volition. There were just times she didn't feel like it. Especially not when she thought about Bella.

When she thought about Bella she didn't want anything touching her skin.

She had been fourteen when her focus had turned, without any input from her brain, to Bella's elegant form. Even as a teenager she had been elegant, not like her sister, not _posh_, but with a dismissive kind of cruel grace that Lily found intoxicating. She was almost luridly beautiful, jet-black hair that shone purple in the light, enormous lustrous eyes, eternally parted lips. Bella's sculptural face and preternaturally ripe body filled in the rough diagram of sex Lily had pieced together like an ink bottle turned over a piece of parchment.

The lens of her eyes snapped shut to James.

Lily hadn't worried about the intensity of her attraction to Bella. She hadn't tried to rationalize, in her fumbling adolescent way, the nature of it. She had assumed it was something that _happened_ in this world. Something natural to magic. Everything had felt absolutely right to Lily from the moment she had smashed through the platform barrier for the first time. Nothing had felt wrong since, none of her sudden flashes of knowledge, none of the previously inexplicable things that had happened to her, around her, _from_ her. It made perfect sense, her life now. Her nascent quivering passion for an older girl must just be part of it.

Lily could feel Bella in her _blood_.

It was not long before she began wishing in earnest that Bella could be hers alone, could touch her the way she had learned to touch herself. She followed her everywhere that she could get to without being noticed or stopped.

James was following Lily then, and she had hoped feverishly that Bella hadn't noticed. She hoped feverishly that Bella had noticed _her_, but that she didn't feel the way Lily felt about James; didn't look at Lily and see only the hope of sweaty pawing and slack-jawed gaping. Lily wanted James to leave her alone, wanted his friends to leave her alone, wanted there to be nobody in the world but her and Bella. That way her imagined lover would have to see her.

Oh, that day, that day it happened, Lily still bit her lip in anticipation when she thought of it now, years later.

_Lover, lover, come back_.

On the table the ring began to hum. So James _had_ done something to it. She watched it carefully as the sound grew louder and the gold began to glow, getting brighter and brighter until Lily had to cover her eyes and grope blindly for it. With muted rage she forced it back on her finger. The humming stopped; the light faded. James. What a bloody bastard. Bella knew about you. No, Bella _knows_ about you. Somewhere.

Somewhere. Bella had vanished only weeks before but it had been a long time in coming; Lily had watched those lovely eyes grow more and more wild, watched her mouth curl into a feral smile, felt her hands growing colder and her lips growing hotter until the pain was so that she could no longer stand them on her skin. But she tried. Bella was still somewhere, still alive and calling to Lily through her blood. Sometimes it would rush achingly through her body and Lily knew Bella was near. James never suspected anything, thought Lily's sudden faintness was an effect of the efforts they were all putting into the Order, the bloody Order, James and his crusade to destroy people like her Bella.

Lily knew she was on the good side, the right side; she knew that if James, if anyone, even Alice, found out about Bella there would be punishment. It would be excruciating, it would be worse because she would be thinking of how insufficient her cold lover would judge whatever halfhearted damage the Order would do to her. Lily knew they would have to take action because of the nature of it, but that they wouldn't want to. James hated even raising his voice at her, afraid of hurting her, and the rest of them followed his lead. Lily thought of Bella's ruthless, elegant methods, how Bella knew instinctively that Lily would not cry, that she would writhe and scream and die for her over and over.

Bella knew about Lily. Had known all along. Lily saw in her dark eyes the glint of malevolent knowledge about Lily's desire that would forever after only inflame that desire more. Lily still could not explain the intensity of Bella's cold allure, certainly could not have explained it at fourteen when she still knew so little of the world. It was that cruelty, that subtle malice, which had not yet chiseled her so sharply, it was the hint of hereditary madness that pulled at Lily's comfortable, stable, well-adjusted heart. It was the blackness of Bella that reflected the secret black passages in her own mind, her own soul.

It was her eyes, her skin, oh God, her poisonous, her mesmerically beautiful mouth.

Lily trembled. Lily ached. Lily remembered the heat of that mouth on her throat, the hollow of her throat, the place that made her weakest. She remembered Bella's tongue tracing her collarbones, her teeth biting down hard on the taut flesh of her neck, Bella's clever fingers between her legs, Bella's cool and pitiless hand, somehow cool even against the liquid heat of Lily's sex, Bella licking her flesh, Bella pushing her down, Bella fucking her, Bella fucking her, Bella—

Lily wrenched the ring off before she came. Let it hum. Let it burn.

She was only eighteen. She had a right to need more time.


	2. Chapter 1

She hugged her cloak tightly around her body. It was only September, but the cold always came early in Scotland. Remembering trips north from her youth, she thought the cold just never left. The train was heated, but the frigid journey through the mountains was too much even for the enchanted windows, and blasts of icy air shot in through cracked seals and half-open compartments. Nearly there.

It was her fourth year and she felt a kind of comfortable confidence as she watched the throng of students swarming off the train. The pale, drawn faces of the first years, already looking smaller than she remembered herself such a short time ago, made her grin.

"Oy! Evans!" James Potter rushed up behind her and swatted at her hair. Lily's eyes narrowed. _Bloody Potter_. He skidded to a stop in front of her, turning neatly on his heel and blocking her path. "How was your summer? Do lots of Muggly things?"

"Sod off," she growled. As close as she could get to growling. Being fourteen left her at a terrible disadvantage for menace. James smirked, tugged her hair, and darted off to the cluster of boys waiting impatiently for him next to the carriages.

"Why bother, Potter?" The tallest, Lupin, was shifting his weight anxiously. "We've got important things to do and you waste time talking to that stupid girl."

_I am not stupid_, Lily thought angrily. _I will hex you where you stand, Remus Lupin_.

One of the other boys, slight, with coal-black hair against his pale cheek, looked at her and shrugged. "I dunno," he said. "She looks smart enough to me."

Lily sighed and went to retrieve her trunks.

_Bloody Potter and his bloody friends_. The attraction she'd felt for him last year had faded quickly, leaving only the things she had been attracted to—the arrogance, the casual self-assurance, the lack of regard for others that had been her first foray into the realm of bad boys.

She slammed the last of her luggage onto the trolley and searched for an open carriage. All of the girls in her house had already started off toward the castle, giggling and talking excitedly about their holidays. Lily thought of James, seething with contempt. If he hadn't stopped to bother her she could've sat with Alice. Even the Ravenclaws were gone. A brace of Slytherins turned their backs icily to her as she eyed an open seat next to them. She sighed. _Have to sit with those bloody Hufflepuffs. They'll probably talk about their new jumpers the whole way._ At least the Slytherin girls ignored her. The Hufflepuffs always went out of their way to include Lily in their conversation, and she had never been good at talking about knitting.

"My mum got some really lovely patterns from Mrs. Lampwick, she lives up the road," rambled one of them. Why did Hufflepuffs always have such round pink cheeks? They all looked like her mother's Hummel figurines. Lily stared blankly ahead, not registering anything they chatted on about. She didn't notice the carriage in front of them had suddenly stopped until her own slammed into it.

A chorus of shrieks from the Hufflepuffs, and judging by the high tones and outraged exclamations in front of them, Lily guessed they had run into the Slytherin girls who had snubbed her earlier. Grateful for the opportunity to get out of the carriage, to get away from purling and "tricky drops," Lily leapt to the ground and darted to the front of her carriage. Whatever pulled them—and she had heard it was indeed something pulling them, something invisible—had clearly gotten caught in the hardware on the back of the Slytherin coach. She fumbled blindly at the backboard, not having any idea what she was even trying to do, when a cool white hand pushed hers away roughly.

"Don't bother, girl."

Lily looked up, her mouth falling open. The command had come from a tall, black-haired Slytherin that Lily had only seen once or twice in her previous years. She was an older girl, Lily guessed even a seventh year, and with a furious blush Lily suddenly knew this was the most beautiful creature she had ever seen. She jerked her hand back, cutting it on a piece of the carriage's ornamental silver molding.

"Look out, Bella!" one of the other Slytherins shrieked. "She'll get her filthy blood on you!"

It was too late. A small red drop had fallen on Bella's outstretched finger.

Both carriages fell silent. Not even a sniffle from the Hufflepuffs, who had been carrying on only moments before. Lily stared at Bella's face, fear curling in her stomach. She didn't know why she was so afraid, it was only blood, and even if she _was_ Muggleborn, and this girl a Pureblood—Lily was sure she was, most of the Slytherins were or pretended to be—she hadn't done anything _wrong_. It had been an accident, the other girl's fault, even, although the fault had been the instant hot flush her look had sent spiraling through Lily's body.

Bella—_Bellatrix_, Lily suddenly remembered—stared into Lily's eyes. They were purple, she thought, no, just very dark blue, and they opened her up utterly. Lily was sure Bellatrix could see the reason for her blush, could see the thousand secret thoughts that had suddenly flooded her mind. A crush of images pushed down on Lily as Bellatrix stared at her, like scenes from a film, Bellatrix touching her, Bellatrix parting her lips, Bellatrix moving closer, Bellatrix kissing her. Lily trembled slightly, confused and excited by the montage. James had never done this to her, and he had certainly stared at her often enough. Her legs began to turn liquid, Lily was suddenly afraid she might fall, when Bellatrix broke the contact.

Her heavy, lucid eyes slid down to the ruby spot still staining her pale skin. Without a glance at the horrified Slytherins, she raised her finger to her lips, extended her tongue, and licked the blood away.

Lily fainted.

As she sank to the ground, she could hear the Hufflepuffs break into new shrieks behind her. "Bellatrix Black hexed her!" the pigtailed one cried, her voice fading into misty darkness. "Bellatrix Black hexed Lily!"

_Bellatrix Black_.

_Bella_.

When Lily awoke in the hospital wing, a flock of Hufflepuffs surrounded her. Madame Pomfrey pushed through them, and they fluttered aside.

"No hex, Miss Evans. No reason at all for you to have fainted. Though I hear Miss Black was involved"—there was a slight squeal of terror from one of the girls—"and I certainly don't blame you for getting anxious. Likely just nerves and exhaustion from the trip. You're perfectly fine, I've gotten your finger fixed up with no trouble, now off you go to the feast. Something to eat surely wouldn't hurt." She shooed the anxious, bustling Hufflepuffs away, and Lily sat up carefully. She was slightly dizzy, but as soon as she got her feet on the ground she felt much better.

"Thank you, Madame Pomfrey."

"You're welcome, dear. Oh, Miss Evans--" Madame Pomfrey lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper—"do your best to avoid Miss Black, won't you? I've had more than one student in here as a result of being on the wrong end of her wand."

Lily swallowed hard and nodded. _Avoid Miss Black_.

Good bloody luck.

As she walked back to the Great Hall, a group of boys she immediately recognized as Slytherins by their slick hair, sallow faces, and air of unearned authority stepped from a corridor in front of her.

"Evans, right?"

"You're a Mudblood, aren't you. I can smell it."

"Sure that's not just her cunt, Avery?"

The boys laughed coldly. There was no trace of real amusement in it, just a high, icy snigger. Lily felt her cheeks burning. The leader of the group, a tall, thin seventh year Sirius had often pointed to before drawing a finger across his throat, lifted his hand. The jeers stopped.

"Evans, my cousin Rabestan tells me you soiled one of ours this afternoon."

"I didn't do anything!" Lily spat. "It was an accident!"

"Getting your filthy blood all over Bellatrix? An accident? You know better than that," he said and drew his wand. Lily froze. She had heard about Lucius Malfoy's brutal punishments for offenses far less than the one he perceived she had committed. She steeled herself against what she was sure would be great pain, squeezing her eyes closed.

"Oh look at the little Mudblood, Lucius, you're scaring her!" Avery cackled.

Lucius pointed his wand at her, lips curling back over his polished, canine teeth, beginning to form what she was sure was a terrible word, when—

"Don't be so common, Lucius."

_That voice. Bellatrix. Bella._

Lily's eyes flew open. She was there, she was, her black robes perfectly still around her feet. Lily hadn't heard her come, hadn't seen her, didn't know how she had arrived. Lucius dropped his wand quickly, his awe of her evident. "But Bella—" he protested.

She silenced him with a look. "This girl tells you it was an accident, and you punish her anyway. How . . . _common_." Her tone was withering.

"But Bella, please, her blood, it—_touched_ you."

Bellatrix sighed impatiently. "Yes, it did." She held out her hand. "Do you see a mark? A burn? I'll admit her blood was cold and heavy and unpleasant, but Mudblood always is."

Lily had never imagined Bellatrix saying that word. She didn't know why; of course she would say it. The Blacks were Pureblood, the worst kind, Sirius always said. He had turned his back on his lineage and paid for it heavily, but he had decided early that he wouldn't be one of _those_ Blacks. Lily knew Bellatrix was one of _those_ Blacks, it was clear in the way Malfoy and his henchmen revered her. Yet hearing that foul word from that beautiful mouth . . . Lily felt her core shifting again. It hurt when the others said it. It cut at her when she thought about it. _Mudblood_. _Dirt_.

But from Bella's lips, in Bella's voice, it caused an intense, burning coal to flare in her stomach. Lower. She began to tremble.

"However, Lucius, as you can see I have taken care of the problem and am not injured, so I will ask you why you were going to hurt this girl when it is so obviously beneath you to do so?"

Lucius struggled for words. Lily stared openly at Bellatrix, not bothering to hide her awe.

"We must—it is our duty to—when pure blood is defiled by filth we are obligated--" he stammered.

"Yes, yes, but in this case, I think the girl knows her own transgression. Don't you, girl?"

_And she was talking to Lily_.

Lily nodded jerkily, trying not to faint again. Bellatrix was . . . _defending _her. Their eyes met again, the inky blue depths of Bellatrix's staring at her again, in that way, the way that caused the images. Lily suddenly realized this was right, that it was Bellatrix's stare causing them. Her breath hitched in her chest, the heat was swelling low in her belly, Bellatrix parting her lips, Bellatrix kissing her, Bellatrix biting her—

"Enough, Lucius. I'm sure you'll be missed at the feast." She turned abruptly. "Go."

Malfoy and his friends slinking away down the corridor. Bellatrix turning back to Lily, saying nothing.

"Th--" Lily stammered, unable to form the word. _She was alone with Bellatrix. Alone with her_.

Bellatrix was silent. Her face was impassive, only her eyes were alive and shining with something much darker than their indigo irises. Something dark and hot with malice, with cruelty, with things Lily had only halfway dreamed after long nights alone in her bed. Bellatrix lifted her hand gracefully, put her finger to her lips and slowly, excruciatingly slowly, slid it into her mouth and sucked away a phantom trace of blood.

Lily felt like she was dying. She could _feel_ Bellatrix's lips, the heat of her mouth, the sucking sensastion as though it were on her own finger. Her eyes fluttered and closed.

When she opened them, Bellatrix was gone.


	3. Chapter 2

It was a red sea. Lily was sure of it. It was a red, endless, swirling sea. Her boat was small, a raft, really, with no sides, no oars, no ropes or handholds. A smooth glass raft. Lily's skin glistened with damp, she was afraid to touch the water; it was so hot, so red, so dark and endless. She was so hot; the glass was burning beneath her. The sea began to swell in vast undulating waves, never breaking, never touching her. The raft rocked precariously, one edge of her robe catching in the red. It flipped up and struck her across the face, across her mouth, and as the first iron taste of blood bloomed on her tongue she heard a low, pulsing whisper drifting across the sea. No, not across the sea. It came from the waves, the sound the waves made, the incessant rocking of the waves—

_Lily. Lily. Lily_.

It was her voice. It was Bellatrix, it was Bella, it was her dark crooning moan. Lily felt her body go blank on the raft, felt it begin to ripple with the waves, her hips pushing up high, then her back, arching, her breasts and her neck bared to the voice.

_Lily. Lily. Lily._

The rhythm of the whisper became her pulse, it sank into her veins until she no longer had blood of her own, just the burning liquid of Bella's voice as it roiled through her. No. No. She knew. The sea was her blood, the sea was the power of her blood and Bella's blood mixing, pounding around her, over, her, through her as her raft turned hard and spilled her into it. She sank, helpless, down and down and down through the heavy crimson ocean where it was so quiet, silent, deep, the only sound the rushing of Bella's voice through her body, spiraling closer and closer to the dark center of her, to the void that had started in her mind and had gradually, easily slid lower and lower to the black, hot heart between her legs.

_Lily. Lily. Lily_.

And Bella was there with her, dark hair swirling, visible even through the heavy crimson that filled her mouth, filled her ears. Bella was with her there, she was holding out her hand, holding it to Lily's lips, pressing her own red mouth to Lily's aching flesh, sliding her fingers through all that blood to the secret part and Lily tried to scream, tried to scream, tried to scream but Bella's mouth was on hers and her hand was at her core and her hand was a wave, it was pushing and swelling and filling her and—

Lily woke abruptly, her skin on fire. Her sheets had been kicked to the end of the bed, twisted up in the blanket, all of it damp with sweat. Her blood pumped furiously in her temples, in her hands, in her center. Without thinking she pushed her hand down the front of her underwear and stroked herself feverishly, coming within seconds.

_Bella. Bella. I love you._

She knew she loved Bella. Lily didn't know how she knew, it didn't feel good and happy and sweet like she had expected love to be. It felt dark, and cold, and dangerous. But it _felt_, that much she knew. It was painful, it was agony, it was more intensity than she thought her body could stand.

Lily wanted Bellatrix, _needed_ her, wanted Bellatrix to be at her bedside, to call her a Mudblood, to stare at her with those indigo eyes until she didn't know herself any more. Lily wanted Bellatrix's mouth on her body, anywhere on her body, wanted Bellatrix to bite at the tender nape of her neck, wanted Bellatrix to spill her blood again.

"Lily?"

It was Alice. Lily heard the other girl shifting her bedclothes, opening her drapes, padding across the stone floor to her own bed. "Lily, are you all right? You're whimpering."

Lily hastily pulled her hand up and clutched at her nightgown. She brushed her face with her other hand, smoothing her hair back as best she could. Clearing her throat, she muttered something, anything, to let Alice know she was awake. Alice pulled back the heavy tapestry cautiously, peeking around the fabric. "Hi," she whispered. "You sounded awful."

"Nightmare," Lily mumbled. "I'm okay."

Alice sat down on the edge of the bed. "What was it? I mean, can I ask?"

_It was about Bellatrix Black fucking me in a sea of blood._

"Lucius Malfoy," she said. Alice had heard all about the carriages, about Malfoy and his friends accosting Lily in the hall. The entire school had heard. But as far as Lily knew, nobody had heard about Bellatrix's intervention.

"Oh Lily," Alice said sympathetically. Lily cringed inwardly. She hated that soft, knowing tone. _You don't know anything. None of you do_.

"It's stupid," Lily said. "It was weeks ago."

"Yeah, but Lucius Malfoy hasn't exactly been avoiding you." It was true. Neither he nor his friends had actually approached her, or spoken to her, but she could feel their eyes following her everywhere she went. The bloody rags left on her bed, mixed with dirt. She hadn't gone to anyone about it, hadn't run to a professor or even to another student. She didn't want Bella to see that she was afraid.

Bella, who _had_ been avoiding her. It was not awkward, no sudden ducking into corridors when Lily appeared, It was simply _nothing_. Lily had looked desperately for Bella's heavy black hair, her perfect body, but to no avail. It was as if Bella had vanished.

Lily's body told her that wasn't true. The dreams, the aching, dangerous, burning nightmares of Bella coming to her, nearly killing her, happened every night. Lily knew she was still there, somewhere, just behind her. Lily knew that Bella was aware of her desperate need.

"Well, c'mon," Alice said, suddenly cheerful. "It's nearly breakfast anyway."

At the table, Lily ate nothing. James Potter and Remus Lupin kept pointing at her and snickering at some private, juvenile joke. Sirius Black stared at her oddly. _He knows_, Lily thought. _He's a Black, he can take away the Pureblood pride but he can't take away whatever family knowledge runs in him._

After, when she was gathering up her things to head to her first class, Sirius came up and tapped her on the shoulder.

"What are you doing, Evans?" he said. His voice was curious, mixed with an edge of anger.

"What do you mean, Black?" she replied, trying to match his tone.

"You've been walking around like you were hexed ever since term started. What's _wrong_ with you?"

Lily almost cried with the relief of someone demanding to know without being treacly about it. "Nothing," she snapped and marched out of the hall.

As she approached the corridor that lead to the Charms classroom, her blood began to move frantically through her body. The ember below her belly flared.

_  
Bella_.

She reached the staircase. Up was the classroom, up was another ordinary, miserable day of secret dark yearning for something she was ashamed about not being ashamed about. Down . . . down was . . .

A figure stood silhouetted against the cold blue light of the stained-glass window at the bottom of the staircase. It was her. It was her. Without hesitating Lily turned left instead of right and descended.

As she approached the figure it began to blur and shimmer. Her body surged toward it, dragged by an invisible tether tied around her waist. When she reached Bella her form had completely dissolved.

_This way_, that voice whispered. _This way, girl_.

Lily followed numbly, feeling nothing but the heat of her sex. She found herself in the dungeon, near the entrance to the Slytherin common room.

_This way, girl_.

Lily turned again and was in a dim stone room. Torches flickered on the wall. Cast-iron bracing lined the oak beams in the ceiling, and somewhere water dripped quietly. Bellatrix stood at the far end.

"Mudblood," she hissed. Lily's knees buckled. This was it, this was the day, this was the moment, this was what her dreams had told her would happen. It was what she wanted so badly, to be kept by Bella in a room like this, to surrender to her, to feel the dark power of those eyes, to make it part of her, to make herself part of Bella.

Lily stumbled gracelessly across the room and fell to her knees hard at Bellatrix's feet. Her breathing ragged, her pulse wild, she looked up at Bellatrix, mouth open, long white neck bare before her.

"What is it you _want_, girl?"

_This, this, oh Bella I love you_.

"You love me?" Bella shrieked with laughter. "You love me? What did you think I was going to do, to say? 'Oh yes, you filthy Mudblood whore, yes, I love you too'? Do you know, Lucius and his band of pups have been reporting to me daily that you sneak around trying to find me. Do you know how hard we laugh?"

Lily knew she was lying. She didn't care that Bellatrix didn't love her, she knew that much was true. She was lying about laughing with Malfoy.

"Besides, girl--" her tone suddenly soft and sinister, "—you know you shouldn't. You're one of those precious _good_ things, you shouldn't be thinking the things you think about me, about any of the Blacks, about any of the Purebloods. You're supposed to stay with your own kind, to be sweet and happy and _pure_"—she spat the word at Lily "—and think silly thoughts about silly boys with your silly little friends."

"I know," Lily said softly, shocked that she had the audacity to speak in Bellatrix's presence.

"Do you."

"Yes," she whispered.

"But here we are." Bellatrix suddenly darted forward and grasped Lily's wrist. Her flesh was made of fire, it burned, but Bella's grip stayed hard and cool. "You know what's in here, don't you?"

"Yes," she whispered.

"It's your dirty blood."

"Yes."

"You spilled it on me, girl."

"Yes."

"Did you know that I cannot be tainted by tasting your filth? Did you know that impure blood does nothing to me? That if anything it makes me stronger, makes me more powerful?"

"No."

"It does. Lucius would say it dilutes the purity. He would say it makes me as dirty as you. But Lucius is a fool. He doesn't know the first thing about power."

"No."

"I do."

"Yes."

Bellatrix forced Lily to stand, swaying hard. The nearness of her, the nearness of her open mouth, of her penetrating eyes, was shocking. Bella's hot breath on her cheek, her grip forcing Lily's hand to her breast, oh God, Lily could see the fine pulse in Bella's neck, she was slipping under heavy black cloaks of desire, blood and lust pooling at her base, oh God, it was Bella's mouth closing around her finger, it felt exactly as she had imagined it those weeks ago, she felt Bella's teeth biting hard on the soft pad of her finger, Bella's teeth ripping through the tender skin, opening it, drawing blood.

Lily shuddered. Her orgasm nearly sent her to the floor, but her discipline kept her upright. If she fell Bellatrix would release her, stop sucking on her finger, stop tasting her.

_Bella, Bella I love you_.

Bellatrix slipped Lily's finger out of her mouth. A glowing red smear on her lip. Lily's blood on her lip. Bellatrix made no move to lick it away, only stared hard into Lily's eyes.

"Mudblood cunt," she whispered. "What do you think your filthy blood tastes like?"

Lily tried to pull her hand to her own mouth, but Bellatrix held her wrist.

"What do you think your filthy blood tastes like?"

Lily drowned inside herself as she leaned forward and took Bellatrix's lip in her teeth, drawing reverently on the soft flesh. Bellatrix pulled away, sucked hard on Lily's finger again. Blood glistened on her tongue.

"What does it taste like?"


	4. Chapter 3

Lily was ill.

Lily was burning with fever.

Lily was trying to open her veins and nobody could understand it, she screamed again and again that she didn't want to die, she wasn't trying to die, it had nothing to do with that kind of death.

_That kind of death. Your kind of death._

Madame Pomfrey had been awakened at two in the morning by frantic pounding on her chamber door. On the other side were Alice Pemberley and another Gryffindor girl holding the prone, bleeding body of Lily Evans.

Madame Pomfrey couldn't suppress her cry of alarm. She levitated the girl to the hospital wing and in her haste poured too much dittany over the wounds. Smooth, shiny scars sprang up on Lily's skin.

Madame Pomfrey gasped. Where the dittany had knitted her flesh, fine as calligraphy, were two elegant _B_s etched into the girl's arms.

"Get back to your dormitory, girls," she gasped, trying to shield Lily's body from her classmates. Ashen, Alice shook her head. "All right then," Madame Pomfrey said. "Go and get Professor McGonagall."

Alice looked even more shaken at the thought of waking a professor. She craned her neck, trying to catch a glimpse of Lily around Madame Pomfrey who adjusted her position and gave her a steely look. Alice swallowed hard and nodded, backing slowly out of the room, pulling the other girl with her.

Less than three minutes later Professor McGonagall appeared in the doorway. Her face was white, lips pursed to a thin pale line. "Back to your dormitory, ladies. Pemberley, I am trusting that you will be able to keep this between us, at least until we have learned more." Alice nodded again and the two girls departed, leaning on each other. "Pemberley--" McGonagall called, and Alice stopped. "You two are to stay out of class tomorrow. I will be in to speak with you. Madame Pomfrey," she whispered, "can you give these girls something to help them sleep tonight?"

Madame Pomfrey nodded and retrieved two small vials from a nearby cabinet. "Girls, please drink this as soon as you get back to your dormitory. Please," she added, seeing the pained look on Alice's face. "It will be easier for all of us." Alice looked as though she would protest, but seeing the expression on Professor McGonagall's face thought better of it and took the vials, helping her classmate out of the room.

"What happened?" McGonagall demanded. Madame Pomfrey shrugged helplessly.

"The girls brought her to me this way. Well, not _this_ way. When I got her she was bleeding."

"Pemberley told me Evans had tried to kill herself. That she had . . . cut her arms."

Madame Pomfrey nodded. "That's what I thought. But then I was—afraid, and I used too much dittany, which caused immediate scarring. And this," she said, stepping away from Lily's body, "was what I saw."

Professor McGonagall stared in confusion and horror at the girl. "My God, Poppy," she whispered hoarsely.

Lily began to shake violently. Her breathing was coming in short, rapid bursts, and she clenched and unclenched her fists so tightly that red crescents welled up in her palms. "What's happening?" McGonagall nearly shouted.

"Shock, I think," replied Madame Pomfrey. "I haven't done anything but mend her wounds. It was too—it was too--"

"Well for God's sake, do something else now!"

Madame Pomfrey leapt to the cupboard and pulled out another, larger vial. "This will relax her."

"She needs more than relaxing," Professor McGonagall hissed.

"It will . . . put her in a controlled coma," Madame Pomfrey said quietly as she stilled the girl with her wand long enough to get the liquid in her mouth. Lily's body slumped immediately against the bed. Her breathing evened out, and her hands uncurled. "She'll be this way until I give her the antidote."

The two women watched Lily for several minutes.

"Poppy," Professor McGonagall said lowly. "Has this girl been around Miss Black?"

"Well, there was the incident the first day of term, the fainting," Madame Pomfrey replied uncomfortably.

"Bring her up. Now, please."

"_Here?_ Do you think that's . . . _wise_?"

"Bring her up please, Poppy." Professor McGonagall's tone was final. Madame Pomfrey looked at her, brows knitted, and left the room.

"Oh Evans," she whispered. "Not you, of all of them."

Shortly thereafter, Madame Pomfrey reappeared with Bellatrix Black, hair tumbling wildly around her bare shoulders. Professor McGonagall felt her skin crawl briefly when she saw the girl, then shook her head slightly and motioned for Bellatrix to sit on a bed on the other side of the room. "Draw the curtains around Miss Evans, Poppy, if you please," she said evenly.

"Why have I been brought here?" Bellatrix's imperious tone shattered the hushed stillness that had been cast over the room since Lily had been given the potion. "What is the meaning of you waking me up in the middle of the night and dragging me here?"

Professor McGonagall despised Bellatrix Black. She tried to maintain at least a professional relationship with all of the students at the school, but Black seemed to fall into a category that was decidedly _other_ than the rest of the pupils. It was impossible for Professor McGonagall to speak to her as though she were any student, even a Slytherin, so she generally tried to simply avoid the girl. Black was poisonous. The older woman knew far more about her than she likely suspected; knew of course her family history, their penchant for blood supremacy above all else, knew Bellatrix's personal affinity for retribution that was aspired to by many in her house with only the palest of results. But Professor McGonagall knew of her association with Tom Riddle, self-declared Lord Voldemort, which was one of Bellatrix's most closely guarded secrets, at least within the world of Hogwarts. The professor doubted very much if even Slytherin's Head of House knew. Not that it would be a bargaining chip; Black would most likely stare at her with those unsettling blue eyes and declare that yes, she and Riddle—Voldemort—had been together, that he was her mentor, most likely her lover as well.

"Will you please tell me if you require something of me, _Professor_," Bellatrix sneered dryly. "If my presence is not needed, please allow me to return to my rooms."

Professor McGonagall set her jaw. "_Miss_ Black," she snapped, "you are here for questioning about the condition of Lily Evans."

"That Gryffindor Muggleborn, you mean?" she responded with a mock innocence that twisted her disturbingly beautiful features. "I don't know the girl."

From across the room, Lily moaned. Professor McGonagall started. Pomfrey had said she was in a coma. She heard the other woman pull aside the curtain to look in on her. "What is it, Poppy?"

"I must not have given her enough," Madame Pomfrey responded. "I'll increase the dose."

"For God's sake, don't kill her," Professor McGonagall shot back. She swore Black's mouth curled in a slight smile as she said it. "You have something to say, Miss Black?"

"Nothing pertinent, Professor," she replied politely. "May I go?"

"You may not."

Bellatrix's eyes narrowed. "What _exactly_ am I being accused of?"

"I will come to the point," Professor McGonagall said tersely. "Tonight Lily Evans was brought in with severe cuts to her arms. When Madame Pomfrey mended the wounds, she discovered that they appeared to be in the shape of the letter B. In short, your initials."

"I assure you, Professor," Bellatrix smiled widely, "I had absolutely no part in that girl disfiguring herself tonight. Until I was brought here I was sleeping soundly in my own room which, as you know, is several floors below hers."

"I understand you and Miss Evans had an . . . incident at the start of the school year."

Bellatrix laughed. Lily moaned again.

"I can't give her any more, Professor. I don't understand how she can still be making any sort of noise, or moving at all."

"Moving?"

"Yes, Professor," Madame Pomfrey said, looking out from the curtain. "She's . . . _touching_ the scars."

"Professor," Bellatrix said evenly, "there was no _incident_, as you say, between that girl and myself. Our carriages collided on the way from the train, she was trying to do something about it, and she fainted."

"Professor Slughorn tells me she cut her finger."

Bellatrix looked at her expectantly.

"He also tells me that some friends of yours, Lucius Malfoy among them, were quite angry about it, that apparently she had gotten blood on you as a result of the cut."

"A drop, Professor. Nothing more. Not a crime, from what I recall."

Professor McGonagall knew Bellatrix was hiding something. The same girl who had been nearly expelled for hexing a Hufflepuff who had had the misfortune of treading on the hem of her robe in the corridor not upset about the blood of a Muggleborn touching her skin?

"Miss Black, you are dismissed. If you should think of _anything_ that might help explain the girl's wounds, please contact me." Professor McGonagall was not satisfied with the interview, but knew her authority had been tapped. She stood and turned her back to the girl, something that always made her uncomfortable.

"May I see her?"

"May you what?" Professor McGonagall's shock was apparent.

"May I see her? Since I have been accused of somehow interfering with this girl, I feel it is well within my rights to see what I have allegedly done to her."

Professor McGonagall didn't know why she acquiesced. Black was staring at her in that odd way, as though she were studying her thoughts, as if she were _determining_ them. The girl wasn't a Legilimens, the professor was fairly certain of that. But there was Dark magic in those eyes, she could feel it. Mutely, she stood aside and motioned for Madame Pomfrey to pull back the curtain.

Bellatrix stood at Lily's bedside, examining her arms.

_Good girl._

It was too bad those bloody halfbreed roommates of hers had discovered her first.

Silently, Bellatrix sent a charm across the room that caused several of the bottles on a far shelf to fall to the ground. While Professor McGonagall and Madame Pomfrey were distracted, Bellatrix lowered her mouth to Lily's arm and traced one of those delicate, curling _B_s with her tongue.

Through the sleeping draught Lily parted her lips and half-groaned, a low and hungry sound that made Bellatrix smile more widely than she remembered doing in her life. When Lily was released, Bellatrix would make sure she was rewarded. Bellatrix would give her so much, make her feel so much, she would cause her such pain and such joy and she would show her what gifts Lily's love would bring.

_Mine, girl. You belong to me._


	5. Chapter 4

It was nearly the end of the year before Lily saw Bellatrix again. She had been released from Madame Pomfrey's vigilant care, from weekly sessions with Professor Sackville just after the spring holiday. Feigning suicidal thoughts to satisfy the harried counselor had been surprisingly easy when she realized Bella had gone into hiding again. Madame Pomfrey had managed to remove her scars, but Lily drew them on secretly at night, washing them off carefully in the mornings. Everywhere she went she kept herself attenuated to Bella's presence.

_It was for you, love. I wanted to give you my blood, to make you stronger_.

Bellatrix had told Lily that first night about the Dark magic that allowed her to absorb Lily into her more completely. Lily was so entranced by Bella that she had tried to cut her throat at that moment, to let her lover take her in totally. Bella had laughed at her then, told her to wait.

Lily had waited as long as she could. She could feel Bella surging through her, could hear her whispering in her dreams, could sense her being at every moment of the day. Then it had all fallen apart.

After Lily had returned to her dormitory and began to carry on with her life, she had stopped speaking to Alice entirely. Lily hated Alice for interfering, for causing her to spill her blood for nothing.

_My filthy mudblood_, she thought, and heard it in Bella's voice.

It was almost time for summer holidays, and Lily felt herself going mad with desire for Bellatrix as she paced the empty, unused corridors. After this year Bella would be gone, she would be gone, and Lily would be alone.

"You won't be alone, girl."

_Bella. Bella. I love you._

Lily's body caught fire. Bellatrix stood before her, her raven hair and ice-white skin and brilliant liquid eyes and her perfect beautiful body.

"Bella," she rasped.

"Silence, cunt."

Lily stood trembling. Her bones were melting, her flesh was melting, she was held up only by that voice, that burning voice that filled her veins.

"I am leaving this wretched school this year, yes. And I am going away to continue my studies--" a sly, cruel smile played on Bellatrix's mouth "—going very far away. But before you start to howl, girl, remember that _nowhere_ is far to a witch. Now come here."

Lily staggered to Bellatrix, barely able to move without fear of her orgasm overtaking her. The _nearness_ of Bellatrix caused such immediate, powerful arousal that Lily couldn't remember her own name.

_Not that I have a name with you, Bella._

Bellatrix grasped Lily's wrists tightly, forcing her to stand upright. "Such a pretty bitch," she said. "He will be pleased." And dragged Lily down the hall to a door she hadn't noticed before.

Inside the mysterious room was a tall four-poster bed, much like the one in Lily's dormitory. A small table near it held a long, thin dagger. The rest of the room was bare. Bellatrix pushed Lily to the center of the room, turning her so that Bellatrix stood behind her.

"I know what you did, girl," she breathed in Lily's ear. "Show me your arms."

Lily was afraid to. They were bare. But Bellatrix commanded her. "Show me your arms."

Lily held them out for her. Bellatrix stroked the soft flesh of her forearm, breathing lightly against Lily's face, stoking the coal in her belly, causing sparks to flare up and out and all through her until Lily was sure she must be burning her clothing. As Bellatrix brushed her arm, Lily could see faint red lines growing on it. A gracefully curving _B_, the same one she had made to empty her blood into cups for Bellatrix months earlier. As the mark grew clearer, Bellatrix jerked Lily back against her body, slid her tongue over Lily's earlobe, caught it in her teeth, bit at her, Lily could feel Bella's cool skin through her robes, could feel every inch of her, pressed herself harder against Bella's body, writhed against her, yes, yes, oh yes, Bella still stroking her arm, still biting her earlobe, pushing her hips against Lily, now she was tracing the mark, now she was running her fingernail over it, harder, slicing it open again, only lightly, only making it raw, not drawing blood, just tracing it as she sucked at Lily's earlobe and kissed down Lily's neck and with her other hand she was pulling Lily's robes off, she was exposing her whole burning body, she was—

_Bella. Bella. I love you._

Suddenly, Bellatrix released her, pushing Lily away roughly, crossing in front of her now and appraising her body coldly. "So pale," Bella said with almost a hint of genuine appreciation. "So thin, so fragile. Look," she said delightedly, "I can see that filthy mudblood moving inside you. You're ripe with it, aren't you?"

Lily nodded numbly. Bellatrix strode up to her and made a long scratch down Lily's body, from the hollow in her throat to the soft skin of her belly. Lily craved Bellatrix's touch, wanted to feel her hands on her, in her like she had been dreaming for so many months.

"You did it for me," Bellatrix said, holding Lily's marked arm up. "A blood sacrifice. Tell me why you did it, cunt."

"I--" Lily could not speak, she was full of fire, she didn't want to answer, didn't want to have to say anything, only wanted to feel and feel and feel and never stop. Bellatrix pressed her thumb hard on the mark, sending a jolt of pain up Lily's arm. "I wanted to give it to you," she gasped finally. "I wanted to give myself to you, to make you stronger, so you would never leave me."

Bellatrix looked pleased. She leaned forward and slipped her hand up Lily's arm, across her jutting collarbones, down and cupping her breast. The sensation was more than Lily could stand. Her legs parted on their own, her mouth opened and all she wanted was Bellatrix to keep touching her, to slide her hand down Lily's shuddering body to her core, to the black heart that lived there and was beating madly and was growing and growing and was going to take over her body, was going to swallow her whole, she wanted Bella to touch her, wanted Bella inside of her, wanted to be in Bella, wanted to die for her a hundred thousand times.

Bellatrix watched the girl tremble, watched her chest rise and fall raggedly, watched her bright green eyes dull with desire, her pale and panting lover, her desperate slave, and felt a shadow of sadness pass just next to her. She _was _leaving, and soon, and possibly forever. The girl loved her blindly, terribly, violently. There was nothing lovely about Lily's passion for her, her raw desire mixed with something so much deeper, something that Bellatrix knew would hold Lily forever, would make Lily _hers_ forever. She thought of her Lord for a moment, unable to stop herself shuddering with pleasure when the girl moaned desperately as His face flickered through her mind. Her Lord rewarded her obedience and devotion, Bellatrix knew. The girl worshiped _her_. She would reward her follower the way she herself had been rewarded.

"Lay down, Mudblood," she commanded. Lily moved blindly to the bed.

Bellatrix removed her own robes carefully, elegantly, stepping deftly out of them. Lily gasped at the sight of Bellatrix's bare body, so much more beautiful than it could ever have been in clothing. Her slender, delicate neck, the straight line of her shoulders, the plane of her collarbones, her full, lush breasts with their lovely pink nipples, her long flat stomach, the swell of her hips, the dark hollow between her lean, finely muscled legs. Lily knew she had gone mad, that nothing so exquisite and violently beautiful could be real.

She was walking toward Lily now. _Oh God, oh yes, yes, oh please let her come to me, let her touch me, oh yes, oh—_

Bellatrix leaned over Lily, black hair drifting across her fevered skin. Every part of her was more alive than it had ever been, she could feel the blood in her veins pushing so hard, so hard against the walls of her body, trying to leap out, she could feel her molten center, she writhed under the faint touch of Bella's curls, she moaned and keened and begged without words. Bellatrix lowered her mouth to Lily's breast, taking the small nipple between her teeth, tugging at it, then releasing it and sucking softly, biting down again.

_Bellatrix kissing her, Bellatrix touching her, Bellatrix biting her—_

Lily was made of liquid. Lily was plunged deep in the sea of blood that she had so often seen in her dreams. The world around her was hot, the air was thick, it was liquid, it was heavy and tasted of iron and of Bella and of _oh yes oh yes oh yes_—

Bellatrix had slipped her hand between Lily's legs. As she felt Lily begin to twist and shudder Bellatrix bit down hard on the soft round flesh of Lily's breast breaking the skin ever so slightly and she licked the trickle of blood away and Lily's orgasm was an explosion, her scream ricocheted off the walls of the room, her body locking tight around Bella's hand, her eyes wide open and staring at worlds beyond this world, Bella knew that look, had seen those secret places when her Lord had entered her, and Bella knew she couldn't deny herself much longer.

"Fuck me, Mudblood," she commanded roughly.

Lily struggled to sit up, still breathing raggedly. Without speaking she pushed Bellatrix down on her back and knelt between her legs. Bellatrix's sex, her secret, and it was Lily's at last. She watched the blood—_her_ blood—pulsing at Bella's throat, reached out gingerly to touch her there, to feel that yes, it existed, that throat, that pulse. Bella arched under Lily's touch.

"_Fuck_ me," she said, harder.

Lily let her fingers drift down Bellatrix's opulent body. She gasped as Lily brushed her nipples, cupped her breasts, dragged her fingernails lightly over her stomach.

_Bella. Bella. I love you_.

Lily knelt forward and put her burning mouth on her lover's body, tasting her, savoring her. She found Bellatrix's most sensitive places, sucked at them, didn't quite believe that she would actually do it but without thinking she slipped a finger inside of her and she was so hot, she was so hot, Lily understood why her skin was always so cool, she kept her fire deep inside her body, Lily put another finger inside her lover and pushed and pushed as she sucked at Bellatrix's tender flesh, and as she felt Bella begin to quiver under her, around her, she bit down.

Bellatrix didn't scream. She made no sound. Her hands found Lily's back and dug hard into her skin, forcing her mouth to press down on her even more, Lily's fingers still pushing and pushing into her, still sucking blindly, drawing Bella's orgasm out of her, pulling on it like a red silk ribbon, unraveling her.

When Bellatrix could speak, she looked into Lily's eyes in that way, that penetrating, that eternal way. "Good girl," she whispered.

_I love you_.

Bellatrix rose slowly from the bed and picked up the thin silver dagger. "I have something for you, girl."

Lily just watched as Bellatrix sat back down across from her, folding her knees under her body. She held her hand out and with the dagger in the other made a thin incision across her palm. Blood, a deeper red than anything Lily had ever seen, welled up instantly. _This is Pureblood_, she thought. _This is what they kill for_.

"Take it," Bellatrix said quietly, offering her hand to Lily.

_I can't. I'm not—I can't—_

"Take it," she repeated.

"But why?" Lily whispered.

Bellatrix sighed. "Because, girl, this way we are bonded. I already have your blood, your filthy Muggle blood, inside of me. But to really be worth anything, you must take mine."

This was Dark magic. This was something Bellatrix had hinted at, something she had half-whispered in Lily's ear. Something Lily had not at all understood. She looked carefully at Bellatrix, and reached delicately for her hand.

"It won't poison you, girl. _Take_ it."

Lily lowered her mouth to Bellatrix's hand. The taste of her was something intimately familiar to Lily. The sea, the red sea, this is what it had been.

She felt no different.

Bellatrix watched her closely for a moment, as if she was waiting for something to happen, then slipped off the bed, found her wand, closed the wound.

"Get out," she hissed.

Lily reeled. _Why? What did I do?_ Bellatrix threw Lily's robes at her. "Dress yourself, Mudblood. You're probably _wanted_ somewhere."

"Will I--" Lily stammered.

"No," Bellatrix cut her off. "We are finished for now. But," she said in that low, sinister voice that caused Lily to dissolve, "I will always find you."

_Bella. Bella. I love you._


	6. Chapter 5

The forest was damp and cold. Slick clumps of rotting leaves clung to Bellatrix's shoes, mud caked the hem of her robes. Her hair flew wild around her emaciated face, her delicate hands were chapped and broken, deprivation and the elements had stripped her body of the flesh that had made it once ripe and voluptuous. She was a shadow of herself.

No. She was a shadow of her Lord. Even stumbling through gnarled undergrowth in heavy rain, even slipping on rocks, even scraping her hands, her knees, oozing blood on tree trunks, wasting it in streams, even as she had moments of realization that contrasted with painful clarity her life a year ago with her life now, Bellatrix was utterly devoted to Him.

The Albanian forest was unforgiving at the best of times, but late fall, with the rains and the driving wind, was the harshest. As Bellatrix made her way back to her Lord's cold, dusty cavern, she hugged herself tightly and rubbed her arms in an attempt to warm them. She picked her way through the mass of roots masking the entrance to the cave, withdrew her wand from her robes, and muttered the incantation that revealed its entrance.

Inside, her Lord was pacing.

When he saw her, he stopped and held out his hand. Bellatrix rushed to him, falling to her knees, kissing the waxy skin of his palm, supplicating herself. "My Lord," she murmured.

"Have you found it?" he asked.

"Yes," she whispered. Voldemort stroked Bellatrix's fingers lightly. She gasped at the contact, wavering slightly as his hands moved over hers.

"Give it to me, Bella."

Bellatrix slipped a small bottle out of her robes. "This is all I could carry, my Lord."

Voldemort dropped the hand he was holding. Bellatrix held up the bottle and he plucked it from her fingers gingerly. The contents swirled inside. "Where did you get it?" he asked.

"From Dolohov," she said quietly. "I took it from him myself."

He pulled the stopper from the bottle and tipped it back and forth. "Wonderful, pet," he said, and placed his thumb on Bellatrix's lip. She sucked it slowly, her wide eyes never leaving his. Voldemort raised the bottle to his mouth and tipped it back. A glittering crimson drop stained his skin. "Bella," he hissed. She stood, trembling, and lifted her mouth to his, licking the blood away. Voldemort smiled coldly, tilting his head upward, he closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. "Yes."

Bellatrix breathed heavily. Her Lord was pleased with her, she had secured another offering from a loyal servant, she was making him so much stronger. He would reward her now as he always did, he would show her what her loyalty and her service earned. She could feel the heat rising in her body, could feel the slick passage at her core, and stepped back and let her wand clatter to the ground as he lifted her robes over her head. He always undressed her this way, slowly, almost tenderly. He let his eyes linger on the latticework of bones pushing at her skin, the spiderweb of blue veins so close now to the surface. Voldemort preferred her gaunt, it meant she was thinking not of herself but only of him, of the work she did for him. He motioned for her to turn around and flicked his fingers over the hard, delicate beads of her vertebrae.

"I could snap you, Bella," he breathed. Bellatrix shuddered in anticipation. "I could break your bones, I could flay the skin from what flesh you have left. I could destroy you, but--" he leaned close to her, his cool breath raising goosebumps on her razorlike shoulderblades, "I choose to keep you alive. More than that, Bella, I choose to make you feel, if only minutely, something of the power I feel."

"Yes, my Lord," she whispered coarsely.

He slid his chill hand around her body, running it over her breasts, down her belly to the dark hollow between her legs. Bellatrix was vibrating with lust, with something more pure and sharp than lust, and she parted her thighs slightly to make his touch deeper.

"Tell me about the girl," he hissed.

"The—girl--"

"That Mudblood slut."

Bellatrix gasped as his fingers pushed into her. "The girl, oh yes." She hadn't thought about Lily in weeks.

"Is she beautiful enough for you?"

"She's very pretty, my Lord, she is young and pure--" Voldemort jerked his hand inside her roughly "—she is unspoiled, my Lord, she is innocent."

"Except for you," he laughed harshly. "What did you do with her, Bella?"

It came rushing back then. The girl on her knees in front of Bellatrix, Bella's fingers in her mouth, on her skin, in her body as the girl moaned and cried out and begged and loved her, Bella remembered how the girl had loved her so desperately, with such fierce and violent anguish. Bella remembered the overwhelming force of the girl's desire, her willingness, Bella remembered the taste of the girl's blood, its harsh metallic tang blossoming suddenly in her mouth, and she realized she had bitten her lip and broken the skin and that she _was_ tasting her, was tasting the girl's heavy blood, Bella was flooded with the sensation of the girl's skin on hers, the fanatical, ecstatic passion for Bella's body, her mouth, her sex, oh yes, and her Lord was fucking her now, fucking her as Bellatrix cried out the ways the girl had loved her.

"Your blood, Bella," he groaned in her ear. "Did she take it?"

Bellatrix nodded, unable to speak. Voldemort thrust into her hard and Bellatrix arched back against him, swallowed by her orgasm.

In the castle, Lily was doing everything within her power to keep from screaming Bella's name. She bit her fingers hard, trying to recreate Bella's mouth piercing the skin. She swallowed her own blood and tried to imagine Bella's tongue sliding over it, tried to imagine Bella's cool hands on her body, her rich voice spilling over her.

_Oh my love, my lover, where are you?_

Lily had moved blindly through her summer holidays, feigning anxiety about her O.W.L.s the next year. At school, she withdrew from activities and socializing. She rarely spoke, she almost never looked in the eyes of anyone around her. She could hear the whispers of the other students, some concerned, some curious, some—Slytherins—malicious. Lily didn't care. She only lived for Bella.

She managed to complete her work well enough, less carefully than she had in years previous, but she was eternally waiting for the thrumming in her blood that would signify Bellatrix's return. She rushed through her homework, through her reading, through everything that wasn't lying alone in her dormitory, drapes drawn, touching herself feverishly while thinking of Bella's face, her mouth, her nimble fingers, her cruel smile, her ruthless mind, thinking of Bella holding her down and marking her skin, _Bella appearing, Bella moving closer, Bella parting her lips, Bella kissing her, Bella—_

It was nearly the winter holiday. Lily was alone in the dormitory, everyone else down talking and laughing in the common room while she was agonizing over having to go home and pretend to smile her way through Christmas with her family, having to pretend that she was fine, that her heart wasn't trying to rip its way through her chest.

_At least nobody will notice long sleeves_, she thought as she traced the barely-visible lines on her forearms with a penknife. Lily wanted her scars back, wanted those two lovely _B_s etched into her again. They made her feel closer to Bella, made her more certain that Bella had actually existed, _did _actually exist. She was about to push the point of the knife into her skin when her blood flared and she heard the low whisper moving through her again, at last, at last,

_Lily. Lily. Lily_.

Lily leapt from her bed. She stumbled to the window, certain she would see Bellatrix on the other side of the glass. She peered at the grounds for the cascade of her black curls, for the silhouette of her body against the snow, for _anything_.

Nothing.

"What makes you think I'd wait _outside_ for you, girl?"

It was her.

_It was her. Bella, oh Bella I love you_.

Lily felt the bliss of falling heavily into Bellatrix's presence, of sinking deep into the dark voluptuous aura that she carried with her. She turned slowly, cautiously, not wanting to find another phantom dissolving in front of her eyes.

She was there. It was her.

Lily tried to speak, tried to move, but she was frozen. She was burning. She was a pillar of fire.

Bellatrix stood at the foot of Lily's bed, wraithlike in the cold blue moonlight. Her eyes, enormous, luminous, intelligent, appraising her.

"You've grown, Mudblood."

The heat of her desire was consuming her. Lily nearly ran to Bellatrix, falling to the ground at her feet, clutching her thick cloak, struggling to breathe. As Bellatrix lifted her to her feet Lily stared at her thin wrists, noticed her hollow cheeks and the deep shadows under her magnificent, malignant eyes.

"Bella, you're--" she couldn't stop herself from speaking, from lifting her hand to touch the hard planes of Bellatrix's face.

Instead of recoiling, of striking her, Bellatrix surprised, amazed, inflamed Lily more by pressing her mouth to the palm of Lily's hand. The remembered coolness of her lips sent fissures crackling down her body. As Bellatrix laid Lily down on the bed, silently charming the curtains closed, as Bellatrix straddled Lily's body and kissed her hard, as Bellatrix's tongue opened Lily's mouth, as Bellatrix's hands pushed her nightgown up over her hips—

Lily was being pulled down again, again, under rushing red waves.

"Scream, girl. Don't worry about the noise." She parted Lily's legs forcefully, raked her fingernails over the soft pale skin of her thighs. As Lily's gasps turned to cries Bellatrix violently thrust her fingers inside the girl, Lily convulsed, screamed her name—

_Oh Bella, oh Bella, oh please—_

--and Bellatrix responded by biting savagely at the girl's white throat, tearing at the skin, _devouring_ her, she twisted her fingers in the girl's tangled red hair, forcing her head back, displaying her neck, she thrust harder and harder between the girl's legs, Lily screaming wordlessly, digging her fingers into the blankets, bucking her hips, the tendons in her neck straining, Bellatrix biting at her everywhere, making her come, making her want to die, to die for her, making her wish Bella would open her throat and take her in and she would be part of her forever, forever.

"It _is_ Christmas, girl," Bellatrix said with cold amusement once Lily was able to think coherently again.

_Bella. Bella. I love you_.

"Clean yourself up. We're going to write a letter."


	7. Chapter 6

Lily's fingers trembled as she grasped her quill. Bellatrix was _there_, was right behind her, pressing her cool body against Lily's back. She slid her fingers over Lily's shaking hand and began to guide the girl's pen.

"Dear Mum and Dad," Bellatrix hissed, the words cold and foreign in her mouth.

_Dear Mum and Dad_

"So looking forward to the Christmas holiday. I've gotten everybody loads of lovely things, and can't wait to see you both."

_To see you both_

"But you know I've got O.W.L.s coming up in the spring, and I'm getting really nervous about them. I am writing to ask your permission to stay here a few days longer to study before I come home--"

Lily stopped her hand, the quill hovering over the parchment. "_Bella_," she whispered.

"Write, bitch," Bellatrix growled. "A friend from school will bring me home a week after holidays start, still lots of time for . . . _family. _Your loving daughter," Bellatrix laughed nastily.

_Your loving daughter, Lily_

Bellatrix leaned over Lily's shoulder, her wild hair brushing Lily's pale skin. Bellatrix hadn't allowed her to dress, had made her write the letter to her parents still naked and quivering. She was breathing shallowly, trying to control her limbs as she folded the letter and slipped it in an envelope. "Bella--"

"You are coming with me, Mudblood," Bellatrix murmured in her ear. "We have things to do."

Lily's eyes slid closed as Bellatrix grazed her ear with her lips. She pushed her head against Lily's, almost nuzzling her, stroking her back, her side, drifting those cold fingers across Lily's fluttering heart, lazily circling her nipple.

"What—what are we--" she gasped as Bellatrix squeezed her breast roughly—"going to do?"

"I want you to meet someone," Bellatrix whispered. "Someone who wants to meet you, girl, someone very powerful, very strong, very beautiful," she moaned, undulating against Lily. Her arousal was growing as she thought about her Lord, imagined Him stroking the girl's cheek, Him laying the girl on the cold stone ground and spreading her open, Him rewarding Bella for bringing Him someone so soft, so tender, so willing. Bellatrix began to writhe on the bed as she saw her Lord taking His young sacrifice, saw herself and her Lord together with the girl, spoiling her together, Him spilling her blood, Him holding his scarlet fingers to Bella's mouth, their savage, sanguinary passion as they made the girl a part of them. _Together_.

Lily's body immediately responded to Bellatrix's movement, pushing back against her and rocking her hips back and forth against Bella's. Bellatrix's hand, caressing her neck, suddenly clasped hard around Lily's throat, nails digging into the soft skin. Her fevered passion swelling, exploding within her, raging through her, she squeezed harder and harder at the girl's neck, ground her hips faster and faster against her hot body. _Her Lord rewarding her, showing her His pleasure, showing her His power, her Lord stroking her neck, her arms, her breasts, her cunt, her Lord taking her, biting her, her Lord devouring her_.

The world dimmed before Lily's eyes. Bellatrix gripped her throat so tightly, so fiercely, Lily began to lose consciousness, to fall fast through the red sea, tumbling, sinking, feeling nothing but the needles of Bellatrix's fingernails tearing at her, the shattering thrusts of her pelvis, hearing only Bellatrix's moans in her ear, her cool breath against her cheek coming faster and faster as she began to cry out a name Lily had only heard whispered around her, through cupped fingers and under dark glances in the hallways, between professors, a name they made sound dirty, sound terrifying, but when Bellatrix groaned it like that, when she groaned it in time to the frantic propulsion of her hips it became a dark, passionate, keening love song, it became heavy red liquid lapping at the edges of Lily's vision.

Bellatrix cried out harshly, jerking Lily's body back hard. Her fingernails ripped into the flesh of Lily's throat, she could feel the slick heat of blood running down her neck and between her breasts. Lily screamed in response before the red sea swallowed her, and reality vanished.

She regained consciousness a short time later. Her body unfogged before her vision, and she felt a cool wetness moving across her skin. She blinked twice, forcing herself to focus, and saw Bellatrix kneeling between her legs, her arms on either side of Lily's body, her red tongue lapping at the blood that had spilled down Lily's neck and chest. Bellatrix's eyes were closed, her expression rapt, her mouth sucking hard at the punctures on Lily's throat. Lily shifted slightly and whimpered. Bellatrix's eyes flew open, their liquid depths blazing, their deep blue tinted black. She didn't seem to be seeing Lily, yet she saw everything in her, saw through her, Lily looked into Bellatrix's wide unseeing eyes, glittering with a mania Lily had never seen there before.

"He will be so pleased," she murmured rapidly. "He will be so pleased with me, he will show me his pleasure, he will show me that he is satisfied, he will know I love him, that I serve him well, that I am his. He will know by my gifts that I am his most devoted servant." She spoke faster and faster, the words mingling together in a low, incoherent moan. Lily's blood stained her lips, her tongue, Bellatrix surged against her and it streaked her white throat. "Yes," she whispered. "Yes, yes."

"Bella," Lily said softly. She reached out and timidly touched Bellatrix's hair. Bellatrix jolted, the frenzied fire in her eyes flickered and faded. She raised her face to Lily's and allowed the girl to suck the blood—Lily's blood—from her lips.

"Make sure to wear your cloak, girl," Bellatrix said with a hint of malicious excitement. "It is cold where we go." She pushed herself off of Lily and turned her back. She paused, turned back to her. "He will be so pleased with you," she whispered, delicately stroking Lily's cheek with a long, cool finger. Lily shuddered at the touch.

_How I love you_

"Your blood is thick, dirty, spoiled," Bellatrix crooned. "But you are so pure, so clean. My little pet, my little servant, do you love me?"

Lily nodded ardently "Oh Bella, I love you."

"Would you do anything for me?"

She nodded again.

"What would you do?"

"I would do anything. Anything you ask me."

"Would you die for me?"

_Oh yes, Bella, oh yes, I will die for you now, at this moment, I will take my own life for you._

"Would you kill for me, girl?"

Lily swallowed hard. Bellatrix's hand darted out and clutched Lily's throat, pressing hard on the punctured flesh. She raised her arm, lifting Lily slightly off the bed, holding her with an iron grip.

"Would you kill?"

Lily was silent. After a moment, her eyes locked on Bellatrix's, her voice low and calm, she answered.

"I would."

Bellatrix held her there, suspended, Lily choking slightly, her vision fuzzing. Just before Lily fainted, Bellatrix lowered her gently. She broke into a mad laugh, high, cold, shrill, a shriek that both froze Lily's veins and ripped through her like fire. Her eyes blazed hot with the perverse gleam again.

Lily was not afraid. She loved Bellatrix's icy madness, her unpredictable cruelty, her heavy, black shroud of rage and malevolence, her twisted, malicious love.

_Her love, her love, Bellatrix loves me. She loves what I can become._

"I will become anything for you," Lily whispered.

"I know, girl," Bellatrix breathed, leaning in and kissing her deeply, slipping her tongue in Lily's mouth, running it across her teeth, biting at her lower lip, sucking it hard, as though she were trying to swallow Lily whole.

When Bellatrix broke away, she breathed deeply, fingers playing at the deep red crescents on Lily's neck. "Don't let them see these, girl," she hissed. "Cover them. I want Him to see what I can do to you." She lifted the penknife Lily had left on the bed, worried it between her fingers, set the point delicately on the pad of her thumb. "For you," she said tenderly, pressing the tip of the knife into her skin. The achingly brilliant crimson droplets bloomed around the blade, Bellatrix's glowing pure blood, and she slid the thumb into Lily's mouth. When Lily had licked it clean, Bellatrix replaced it with the knife. Lily sucked at it reverently, the perfume of Bella's blood and the cold metallic essence of the blade mingling on her tongue. _This is what my blood tastes like. This is what it tastes like now, our blood together_.

Bellatrix drew the knife slowly out of Lily's mouth and drifted it down to the girl's arm. Without looking at her, Bellatrix softly, lovingly pressed it to the faint lines that still appeared there, breaking Lily's skin.

_This is what I wanted, you marking me, this is what I wanted when I did it, I wanted it to be you, to be you, to be you._

The knife traced the scrolled design, Bellatrix's clever hand guiding it carefully. Blood sprang up, welled up in the track of the blade. She was so deft, so precise that it did not spill over the mark, did not run down Lily's arm. When she had finished a gleaming, swirling _B_ stood burning on Lily's white skin.

"Leave it," Bellatrix said softly in her ear.

_Forever, forever. _

Bellatrix snapped the knife closed and tucked it in a pocket inside her robes.

"You are expected, Mudblood," she said like a command. "We leave tomorrow night."


	8. Chapter 7

Professor McGonagall sat at the long oak desk that dominated her office, her head in her hands. Before her was an unfolded letter with a brief passage on it.

_Lily Evans is required at home due to a family emergency. She will be leaving school four days before the start of the winter holidays. We shall be sending an escort to pick her up tomorrow evening. Yrs sincerely_

The professor sighed heavily. Just what the girl needed, an emergency at home. She had been through so much in the previous year with that Black viper, and even though the older girl had left the school and disappeared, Minerva wasn't certain she had abandoned Lily. Not that she had ever been able to confirm conclusively that there had been anything going on between them, but ever since Lily's _incident_ the previous winter, she had watched Evans slip downward, her work as well as her social life. She had stopped taking most of her meals in the Great Hall, or arriving very early or very late. And as far as Minerva had been able to determine, she had completely broken off her friendship with Alice Pemberley.

The last item was the one that worried the professor most. The times were quickly becoming dangerous, there was nothing overt yet but the shift in the wizarding community had been palpable. People had begun whispering that boy's name again, had begun making superstitions and all kinds of wild predictions. Minerva wasn't frightened, not yet, Professor Dumbledore had been passing information to her and there was some talk of creating a small, select network of confidantes to keep a closer eye on it, but Dumbledore hadn't given her any real reason to be alarmed. Still, to be alone, without friends, and damaged somehow as Professor McGonagall knew Lily to be was a perilous thing these days. The girl was vulnerable, and if this business of her and Bellatrix Black had any truth to it, she was in great danger.

"It's this business of the blood that worries me, Minerva," said a voice from the doorway. Professor McGonagall started and gasped aloud as Professor Dumbledore glided into the room.

"Oh, Professor, I didn't see you--"

"Quite all right, Minerva. It's all part of my charm." He winked, closed the door and directed his wand at it, muttering under his breath. "I have come here to talk with you about some matters concerning this very subject, matters sent to me by the Order. You are worried, I believe, about Lily Evans?"

McGonagall nodded. "About her and Bellatrix Black."

"Miss Black left Hogwarts last year, professor. If she had returned to the school we would know."

She shook her head. "It's not that I'm concerned about her coming back here, Albus. Really, my primary fear is for Miss Evans. The girl hasn't been well since her time in the hospital last year. She's become withdrawn, almost sullen."

"And you suspect Miss Black is involved?"

Professor McGonagall nodded again. "I suspect, and these are just my suspicions, Albus, that Miss Black may have interfered with Miss Evans in some way. She always claimed she had no responsibility for the wounds Miss Evans inflicted upon herself, but I have never believed her."

"Indeed," Dumbledore muttered as he stroked his beard.

"It's just . . . more than what they _were_, Albus, it's the way they were shaped. Just the way Miss Black wrote them. I doubt Madame Pomfrey or Evans's roommates knew that, and I wasn't inclined to tell them."

"Bellatrix Black was a very skilled witch even in her first year, as I recall."

"Yes, she was. Skilled in things no student should be."

Dumbledore was quiet for a long moment. "May I have a cup of tea, Minerva?" he asked. McGonagall waved her wand and two cups settled before them. Dumbledore lifted his cup and stared into it.

"You know, Minerva, of the relationship between Bellatrix Black and Tom Riddle—Lord Voldemort?"

"I do," she said quietly.

"How did you learn of it?"

"I—heard you speaking to someone in your office one day. I didn't knock. I apologize, Albus."

"It's perfectly all right, Minerva. I'm glad you knew, otherwise you may not have come to me with your concerns. Voldemort has swayed Bellatrix beyond redemption to his terrible ideology. I believe she is in love with him. And love," he leaned forward, "is more powerful than any potion, any incantation. It will make otherwise rational individuals do things they would never dare."

"And when you begin with a witch like Black--"

"Precisely," he said. "Bellatrix Black always showed a precocious knowledge of, and it worries me even now to say it, gift for, the Dark Arts. That, combined with her family's name and pedigree, makes her an especially dangerous ally."

"But what about Evans?"

Dumbledore fell silent. When he spoke, his voice was quiet, nearly a whisper. "Lily Evans is more a part of all of this than any of us can understand, Minerva. The future is written as the past is written, and her name is there, it is an essential part of whatever is going to happen."

"So something _is_ going to happen, Albus?" Minerva's voice matched his. He nodded slowly, with a hint of sadness. "And there _is_ reason to be concerned about Bellatrix?" Again, he nodded. She paused. "What about the blood?"

Dumbledore took a sip of his tea. "You know, Minerva. You know the ancient magic that hides there. When used properly, or—otherwise, the blood of another can be far more powerful than any spell or wand."

"So Bellatrix cut Lily to take her blood? What would she want it for? Evans is Muggle-born."

"I don't believe Bellatrix _did_ have anything to do with Miss Evans's injury. I believe Miss Evans, as horrible as it sounds, did it to herself. A _willing_ sacrifice would be of much greater use to Bellatrix than an unwilling one. As for the quality of her blood . . . it is true the bloodlines of a wizard carry distinction, carry their own benefits and consequences, and that those who say a pure bloodline is superior are correct—in certain, _very limited_ ways," he added when he saw the distaste curling Professor McGonagall's mouth. "But what is more important than purity is the individual _themselves_."

"But why Evans?" McGonagall persisted. "What makes her blood so desirable?"

"The future," Dumbledore said simply.

"The _future_?"

"Yes."

"Albus, we are dealing with a potentially very dangerous situation. This girl's _life_ could be in danger. I need to know if it is, and if so, what we need to do about it."

"What's that, Minerva?" Dumbledore asked, pointing at the letter on McGonagall's desk.

"Oh, this, yes—it's a letter from Evans's father saying she has to leave a few days early due to a family emergency, that someone will be picking her up tonight. Poor girl," she sighed. "As if she didn't have enough to worry about."

"What time did they say someone would come?" Dumbledore said sharply.

"It doesn't specify."

"Is she still on the school grounds?"

"I don't know. I can have someone find out--"

Dumbledore was on his feet and out the door before McGonagall could hand him the note. She hurried after him. "Get up to the girl's dormitory, Minerva. Quickly."

Professor McGonagall turned and ran in the direction of the Gryffindor dorms. Professor Dumbledore strode down a nearby flight of stairs, descending to the dungeons.

McGonagall burst into the common room, surprising several students. "Lily Evans," she panted. "Have any of you seen her tonight?"

"Evans?" a tall sixth-year replied. "Haven't seen her around in ages, Professor."

"She stays in bed all day if she can, Professor."

"Is she ill, Professor?"

The students broke into a clattering of opinions. McGonagall held up her hand and they fell silent.

"Miss Evans was to be leaving here tonight to return home for the holidays a few days early. I would like to know if anyone is aware whether or not she has done so."

Sirius Black stood up. "She's gone, Professor."

"Who took her?" McGonagall snapped.

"I don't know, Professor. I just saw Evans leaving with someone in a dark robe. I only saw their backs."

"When did they go?"

"About half an hour ago," Sirius said. He stared at Professor McGonagall with a curious look of concern tinted with a slightly knowing glint. "Through the main entrance."

"The main entrance," McGonagall muttered. "The sheer maddening _audacity _of that girl—"

"Can I be of any help, Professor?" Sirius asked. "I think I might have . . . an _idea_ which way they were headed." Her eyes searched his. He was a Black, though by far superior to his family, at least as far as Professor McGonagall was concerned. But being a Black meant that the deep enchantments in his blood might help track Bellatrix down, or at least give _some_ clue as to what she was doing with Lily Evans. McGonagall nodded.

"Follow me, Black. The rest of you—" she shot a cold glance around the room—"are to carry on."

They met up with Professor Dumbledore, who was trailed by Professor Slughorn, in the corridor. "I felt Horace may be able to shed some light on the situation; he was Miss Black's head of house and from what I gather had a tremendous . . . _esteem_ for her."

"Lovely girl, Bellatrix." Slughorn said. "Very talented. Bit of a bully," he added quickly, seeing the cold displeasure on the faces of the others.

"That's why I've included Sirius," McGonagall nodded toward Black, whose face twisted at the mention of Bellatrix's name. "Not that he bears any esteem for his cousin, I don't think."

"Never have, Professor."

"Right. Now, I know you and Miss Evans used to get on fairly well, and I don't know how much you've figured out, but we have reason to suspect that your cousin has gotten Miss Evans involved in some Dark business."

Sirius nodded slowly. "Yes, I think so too."

"And you didn't say anything before?" He looked upset. "Not that you would have known anything _specific_, of course," McGonagall tried to back away from accusing the boy.

"It's just—I know her sister, Andromeda, is disagreeing with the family more and more, and she has been communicating with me. That's why they took her out of school, Professor," he said to Dumbledore. "She's not at boarding school in France. The family has kept her at home, trying to re-teach her. But she sends me letters . . . they say that Bellatrix hasn't been at home for months, she was only there briefly at the beginning of the summer."

"Does Andromeda have any idea where she might have been during those months?" Dumbledore asked carefully.

"With Him," Sirius whispered, hatred coloring his voice. "Andromeda says Bellatrix had been talking of nothing else for years, and that she always swore she would go to him as soon as she could."

"Horace?" Dumbledore looked at the oiled, polished man evenly. "Do you know anything that could assist us?"

Slughorn coughed and fumbled for a moment. Only when Professor McGonagall cleared her throat sharply did he speak.

"Bellatrix—Miss Black—only mentioned the name in front of me a couple of times. Only casually, if such a word can be applied to such a man. Nothing specific, mind you, just the same as her parents, as the Malfoys, the Lestranges. All of them beginning to brandish the name, you know, to _use_ it. All I could really tell you, Albus, is that she certainly knew _of_ him, and it was no secret that she was making plans."

"What about the Evans girl? Did Miss Black ever mention her name?"

"Oh no," Slughorn said quickly. "But those boys who followed her around everywhere certainly did. Lucius Malfoy tried rather hard to torment the girl, though from what I understand Bellatrix put a stop to it."

_Only a drop. Not a crime._

"Well, Minerva, you have your proof," Dumbledore said quietly. "We need to _find _her."

"I'll contact the Aurors," McGonagall offered.

"No, Minerva. They won't be of any help. If Miss Evans has gone willingly with Bellatrix Black, I'm afraid there's very little we can do. She won't leave any traces, especially if she fears for Bellatrix's safety."

"Why would she do that?" Sirius burst out incredulously. "Bellatrix is an evil, corrupt, rotten—"

"Yes, she is. But none of that matters when you're in love," Dumbledore patted Sirius's shoulder gently. "May we have your assurance of confidence in this matter, Sirius?" Dumbfounded, Sirius could only nod. "Horace?" Slughorn nodded his assent heartily. "Excellent. Back to your business, both of you."

As the two figures receded down their opposite corridors, Professor McGonagall leaned on the cold stone of a window. Her eyes combed the grounds, desperately searching for a flash of red hair, a swirl of black robes.

"They're quite far gone, Minerva," Dumbledore said gently, behind her.

"But Albus, there must be something we can _do_."

"I'm afraid, my dear, that our hands are, for the moment, tied. I am quite certain Bellatrix and Voldemort will not kill Lily Evans, nor will they harm her physically beyond repair. She will be back, and her body will be whole."

"Her mind, Albus? Her soul?"

"That is what worries me, Minerva. That is what keeps me awake. But at present we can do nothing but wait."

Professor McGonagall did not move from the window for a long time. She surveyed the landscape until fingers of light began to touch tentatively at the western sky.

_The future._


	9. Chapter 8

They had been traveling for three days, each stage of the journey growing longer and longer, using less and less magic. "No traces," Bellatrix said gleefully. "They can't catch us, pet."

Lily shivered. They had been walking through dense forest for several hours, the fog and damp and chill beginning to make her teeth chatter. She guessed they were on the last leg of their journey, after first Disapparating from Hogsmeade to a London station Lily had never seen. It was dark, cloistered, smelling of what Lily thought might be gunpowder and steel. The platforms were lined with enormous hearths. It was a Floo station. She had climbed into one with Bellatrix, the other woman clutching her tightly around her waist, Lily's hands twisted in her skirts, and they had vanished in a flash of green fire and come out somewhere dark and cold.

"Now we must abandon our magic, girl," Bellatrix sighed. "We are going to a very secret place, and we must not be found."

They had spent the next two days traveling in a succession of coaches driven by frightening looking men with sallow faces, dirty hands, and hooded eyes. They all seemed to recognize Bellatrix; they sat up straighter and never looked back at their passengers. On the morning of their third day, Bellatrix and Lily stood at the outskirts of a dark, tangled grove.

"Walk, Mudblood," Bellatrix pushed her forward. Lily stumbled into the undergrowth, tripping on roots. She fell heavily to the ground, grazing her palms. Bellatrix lifted her up and studied Lily's hands, red mixing with black dirt. "This is you, girl," she sneered.

Lily nodded. It was her, all dirty blood. As they walked the wounds didn't close, and by the time they reached the gnarled mass of branches and roots the dirt had been nearly washed away by the steady stream of blood that coursed down her palms, her fingers, that dripped on the cold gray stones that anchored the ancient growth. Bellatrix held her hands up for inspection again.

"Yes," she hissed. "This is how I wanted to bring you to Him." Lily's heart pounded fiercely. The aching, burning sensation had been stinging through her body since they had entered the wood, but now, standing before the entrance—Bellatrix had cleared the way—and hearing her low, throbbing voice whispering about _Him_, Lily felt it so clearly, so sharply, that her knees began to waver. Bellatrix pushed Lily into the mouth of the cave, stalactites glimmering with rust like blood. The cave itself was heavy with a thick metallic iron aura, it pressed at Lily's nose, her mouth. Bellatrix turned Lily roughly, so the girl was facing her.

"I have waited, He has waited, we have both been waiting for this, girl," she murmured. "Waiting so long, and now . . . now . . ." She pulled Lily's head forward, capturing her lips. Bellatrix's teeth tugged at her, Bellatrix's mouth sucked hard at Lily's tongue, Bellatrix's hand was on her hand, forcing the torn and bloody flesh to Lily's throat, dragging a crimson banner across her skin. Lily went limp in Bellatrix's arms, her head lolling backwards, her neck open, exposed. Bellatrix left a line of cool, liquid kisses down Lily's throat, the air was growing colder, the smell of blood pressed harder down on her, the taste of Bellatrix still ached in her mouth, she couldn't breathe, she couldn't see, she couldn't hear, she could only feel and smell and taste.

Abruptly, Bellatrix spun Lily around, causing the girl to fall to the ground. Bellatrix stepped over her prone body and fell to her knees on the other side, facing the black emptiness of the cave.

_Lily. Lily. Lily._

The words whispering through her blood again. Pulsing through her, so powerfully, her body swaying back and forth in time. Not Bella's voice, she realized. Not Bella's voice alone. It was woven through with something deeper, colder, something sinister and violent, a voice Lily had never heard but understood to be _His_.

_Lily. Lily. Lily_.

Her body surged, rocked, the voice was so dark, so beautiful, so terrible, the smell of blood so potent and thick on the air, the searing trail of Bellatrix's kisses burned so brightly on her skin—

_Lily. Lily. Lily._

She gasped, moaned, she arched high, her hips thrusting toward the sound of Bellatrix murmuring, her heavy breath, her gasps catching in her throat as she spoke to someone unseen, to the creature that was calling to Lily, _to Him to Him to Him_

And Bellatrix was standing, was turning back to her, was kneeling down and pulling her to her feet, both their hands slippery with blood. Bellatrix was behind her, holding her up, one hand at Lily's neck, the other around her waist. Her mouth close to Lily's ear, flicking her tongue over it, squeezing her throat lightly, Lily's body burning, aching, the dark secret place at her center was blossoming with violent black flowers.

"He is come, girl. He is here. Stand in His presence, cunt." She groaned hungrily in Lily's ear. "You are expected."

"Bellatrix," that cold, malevolent, exquisite voice purred. "Come."

Somehow, Lily managed to stay standing as Bellatrix pulled away from her and went into the darkness, stopping just short of disappearing, her ghostly skin and luminous eyes floating in the black. The thickness of the air, the strength of _His_ voice in her veins, kept Lily upright, swaying with need, with ecstasy.

"Let us meet this thing," the voice hissed.

"Girl," Bellatrix barked hoarsely. "Come and meet your Lord."

Lily fell then, as if a hand had been holding her up and had suddenly let go. She crawled across the rough stone ground toward Bellatrix's feet, her hands leaving shimmering red trails behind her. She knelt before Bellatrix, forcing her eyes to focus on her lover's white, transfixed face. _Bella_.

"The girl, my Lord," she whispered. "The filthy-blooded Muggleborn I have told you of."

"What is your name, Mudblood?" the voice demanded.

"Lily . . . Lily," she choked. "My name is Lily."

Cold laughter. "Lily," _He_ sneered. "Muggleborn purity. Bellatrix tells me you are quite devoted to her."

"Oh yes, oh yes—I would—I would do anything--"

As the body belonging to the voice slid around Bellatrix's shadowed form, Lily felt the thrumming heat swell unbearably through her body. As _He_ drew closer to her the fire raged and roared, Lily was screaming with pain and desire, her body twisting and writhing, she was clawing at her robes, she was tearing at her skin, she was trying to rip herself open for _Him_, for Bellatrix, oh she screamed for them, screamed in agony, in rapture, oh yes, oh yes, _He_ was extending his wand, _He _was lifting her up, the shimmering, flowing power wrapping around her, splitting her, the world was dark, was red, was pulsing all around her, through her, she screamed, she screamed, Lily was drowning, was drowned.

Voldemort levitated the girl to a low stone table, setting her down gently. "Bella," he called, and Bellatrix rushed to his side.

"My Lord."

"You have done well, Bella. I am pleased," and he shot a thin red jet from his wand, a glowing, crackling web spreading over her body. Bellatrix cried out, convulsing, writhing, screaming his name as she shook with orgasm.

As Bellatrix stood, heaving, Voldemort turned back to Lily's unconscious body. He flicked his wand over her, a soft breeze ruffling her clothes, her hair. Her face was slack, bloodless, lips slightly parted. "Such a filthy creature," he whispered. "So ugly and impure, so unworthy of me. I shall give you to Bella." He stood back. "Bellatrix," he commanded. She stumbled to his side, still breathing heavily.

"My Lord?"

"This is yours, Bellatrix. You may do what you wish with it. Do not kill it."

Bellatrix knelt on the stone table next to Lily's body. She stared at her, eyes glowing with frenzied lust. She bared her teeth, licking her lips. She lifted her bloodstained palm to her mouth and sucked her fingers slowly, savoring Lily's taste. Bellatrix ran her hands over Lily's body, sliding them over her breasts, grasping the neck of her robes, ripping them off the girl's limp form. Her breath shuddered through her chest as she examined Lily's naked flesh. The girl's chest rose and fell shallowly, Bellatrix reached out and stroked her breast, pinching her nipple, and Lily moaned, her eyelids fluttering.

_Bella. Bella. I love you_.

A mad, cruel smile wrenched across Bellatrix's face. "Filthy bitch," she cackled. "You are _mine_. I am His, and you are _mine_." She pressed her palm to Lily's stomach, sliding it up between her breasts, wrapping her cold fingers around Lily's throat. With her free hand she parted Lily's legs and forced her fingers deep Lily's quivering body. "He has made me powerful, Mudblood. He has given you to me, I brought you to Him and in his appreciation he has given you to me."

Lily pushed down on Bellatrix's fingers, thrusting her hips against her desperately, furiously, crying out as Bellatrix made the fingers around her throat into claws, reopening the recently-healed punctures. Bellatrix straddled Lily's body, still forcing her fingers inside Lily, riding her with her hand around Lily's neck, the girl's body arching under hers, the girl crying out Bellatrix's name _oh Bella, oh Bella, oh yes, oh Bella Bella Bella Bella _and Bellatrix staring at the ceiling, her mouth open, her eyes unseeing, her body rocking hard against Lily's, her cries spiraling up higher and higher, pushing through the bloody air, her core incinerating, her body opening, she could feel her Lord standing nearby, could feel his power, coupling with the shuddering, twisting, undulating girl beneath her, the heat of her skin, radiating off her, searing Bellatrix through her robes, she ripped her hand from Lily's throat and tore at her skirts, at the low neck of her dress, desperate to feel the terrible, furious, euphoric fire exploding from Lily's body pressed hot against her own skin, she could feel her Lord moving closer, could feel the blazing intensity of the power that rolled off him, her own passionate madness rising, swelling, spilling out of her mouth in an ecstatic, a exultant scream.

_Bella kissing her, Bella inside her, Bella thrusting inside her, Bella fucking her, Bella fucking her, Bella breaking her, Bella loving her_

Lily could not think. She was not a person, she was nothing, she was a blazing ball of sensations, she was all burning skin and bleeding flesh and she was heat, she was heat, she was fire, she was not human, she was an animal, she was Bellatrix's pet, she was spread before her mistress, she was opened up and Bella was fucking her and _He_ stood nearby, Lily could feel it, and Bellatrix was fucking her and wailing and keening and clawing at her clothes, ripping at them, and as Bellatrix came, as she came and screamed so loudly Lily could hear nothing else, not even the powerful pulsing voice that still flooded her, as she came pushing hard, thrusting hard, driving Lily into the stone table, trying to break it with Lily's body, with Lily's aching, yearning, desperate, shaking body, as Bellatrix came she clutched at Lily's hair, twisting it, wrenching her head back, as Bellatrix came she fell forward, biting hard at Lily's throat, as Bellatrix came she broke Lily open, her thick blood running, rushing down her neck, her shoulders, staining her, the cold stone, staining Bellatrix's mouth as she came, and Lily's cries rose up, met Bellatrix's, carried the sound through the echo of Bella's scream, shattering the air, crackling off the stone walls, twisting back into Lily's body until she was a scream, she was a cry, she was no flesh only sensation only sound only lust only power only

_Bella. Bella. I love you_.

Voldemort approached the two trembling forms, Bellatrix's body covering Lily's, her face pressed into the girl's neck. He regarded them, their white skin glittering with swaths and drops and streaks of blood. He reached out a cold, pale hand and brushed a lock of hair from Bellatrix's face. She murmured at his touch, shifting against the girl's body. The Mudblood groaned and winced as Bellatrix withdrew her fingers, her breathing ragged. Voldemort stroked Bellatrix's hair. She pushed herself off Lily, leaning back on her knees between the girl's legs.

"Beautiful, my dear Bella," he murmured in her ear. "Your purity mixing with that filth, it is a beautiful thing to behold."

Bellatrix leaned back against Voldemort's unyielding body. "My Lord," she gasped.

"Get up, Bella."

She struggled to her feet, lifted her bloodstained fingers to Voldemort's mouth. "Not yet," he hissed. Her hand flew to her own mouth, she sucked her fingers slowly, staring hard into Voldemort's eyes. "Her arm, Bellatrix."

Bellatrix straightened Lily's arm, exposing the cracked, raw mark etched into it. The girl stirred slightly, her eyes sliding open and struggling to focus. "Bella?" she whispered.

"Quiet, Mudblood," Bellatrix jerked her arm. Lily winced.

"Tell me," Voldemort said with a hint of malice, "do you love Bellatrix?"

The haze surrounding Lily was beginning to fade, and she felt the first cold fingers of fear sliding up her body. "I—do," she stammered. Voldemort was circling the stone table as Bellatrix traced the _B_ on her arm lazily with an outstretched finger. His eyes were fixed on Lily's, their vast depths were swallowing her. All she knew were those bottomless eyes and the languid stroking of Bellatrix's finger. Voldemort's hypnotic stare, Bella's dreamlike fingertips, the heavy odor of blood and sex, the thrumming in Lily's veins were making her drowsy, transporting her. "I love her," she mumbled. "I love her."

"And you would do anything for her?"

"Anything . . . anything . . ."

"You would kill for her, Mudblood?"

Lily broke away from Voldemort's stare, her eyes searching for Bella's. The penetrating indigo gaze flooded her with sensation, Bellatrix seemed to smile at her, she licked her lip delicately, she dragged her finger so gently across Lily's torn skin—

"I would kill for her."

"My Lord," Bellatrix added soothingly.

"I would kill for her, my Lord."

Voldemort stopped circling. He stood behind Bella, running his fingers up and down the planes of her face, her hollow cheeks, her bruised lips. Bellatrix sighed, parted her lips. Voldemort slipped his thumb into Bella's mouth and she sucked at it, rapt, enthralled, her eyes still locked on Lily's.

"You may do it, Bella," he said with tenderness like a fine blade cutting at Lily's heart. Voldemort flicked his wand and Bellatrix's lifted from the ground and flew to her hand.

"Filthy Mudblood," Bellatrix murmured like a prayer. She set the tip of her wand on the curling scratches on Lily's arm and pain ratcheted through her, pain she didn't think she was capable of feeling, pain that seemed to rip her apart, searing her skin, racing through her veins, pain that obliterated her senses and she opened her mouth to scream but no sound came out. When Bellatrix lifted her wand, the _B_ flashed brilliant scarlet—_the color of her blood, of Bella's blood—_and quickly faded to nothing, leaving her smooth, undamaged, no trace of that beloved, graceful mark. "You are mine now, girl," Bellatrix whispered, low and dangerous. "Forever."

Voldemort grasped Bellatrix's arm, pushing her sleeve up. "For your service," he hissed, and touched his own wand to her. Bellatrix screamed, writhing in pain. When he lifted the wand a poisonous black skull with a tongue like a snake lapped at her skin. It vanished after a moment, but Bellatrix's eyes stayed locked on the spot.

"My Lord . . . my Lord . . ."

"The girl is yours, Bella, but _you _are mine."

"Yes, yes, my Lord--"

"Enough, Bella," he said with an air of cold finality. "You may take the girl to your chamber. She is yours to do with as you please. Do not kill her," he said again. "She is more important to me than she ever will be to you."

Bellatrix's eyes broke away from the place where the Mark had been. "Thank you, my Lord," she whispered.

Voldemort retreated into the darkness. Bellatrix lifted Lily's body, supporting her shoulders, helping her up as carefully as a devoted lover. She guided Lily's mouth to her own, pressing her lips against Lily's softly, almost sweetly. Her tongue parted Lily's lips and explored her mouth as though for the first time, gently and with great sensitivity.

"Come, girl," she crooned and pulled Lily delicately off the stone table. Lily collapsed against Bella's body, held up by Bella's cool hands, and was led into the murky depths of her Lord's cave, swaying slightly on her Lady's arm.


	10. Chapter 9

Lily did not dream.

When she slept it was under a heavy black cloth, nothing tugged at the corners of her mind, no red seas swallowed her.

When she woke, she was tangled in Bella's arms.

_My love, my love, my Lady_

Bellatrix slept rarely. She spent long hours with Voldemort, curled at His feet, listening to His half-whispered plans, His coiling rhetoric filling her mind, clouding her, pushing her deeper and deeper under the swirling, crashing waves of His power.

"You will marry, Bella," He said to her on the third night. His hand was stroking her hair, was clawing with restrained savagery at her throat. Bellatrix didn't move, didn't speak, but her hands clenched tightly in her lap. "Rodolphus Lestrange, I think. An excellent match, his bloodlines are nearly as distinguished as your own, and he has important contacts at the Ministry."

Bellatrix did not protest, but she had a moment of fear. Was her Lord disappointed in her? Why would He send her away? And to a man like Lestrange, a man whose abilities, whose blood, fell far short of her own?

"I am aware of your thoughts, Bella," he aid softly. "You are my most devoted servant, my closest ally. But there is very little we can accomplish with no outside contact. As for Lestrange's abilites, I will agree, Bella, he is no match for you. None are," he added, "except myself."

"Oh, my Lord, I could never aspire to--"

He twisted a lock of her hair and forced her head back, staring into her eyes. "Of course not," he said silkily. "There has never been a wizard to equal my power."

"No, my Lord, you are the most--"

He twisted harder. "Silence." She gasped and looked away. Voldemort released her hair and continued to stroke her neck. "Yes. Lestrange. You will return the Mudblood to her _family--_" a cold sneer—"and then you will go to him."

"But my Lord, we aren't well acquainted, if I go to him tomorrow--"

Voldemort ran his hand down Bellatrix's smooth throat, sliding his fingers under her dress, cupping her breast. Bellatrix moaned softly. "I do not doubt the power of your charms, Bella." He brushed his thumb over her nipple and Bellatrix began to undulate against his touch. "You will take the Mudblood home tomorrow, you will tell her what she must do, and you will marry Rodolphus Lestrange within the fortnight."

"Two weeks?" she gasped. Voldemort twisted her nipple roughly and she let out a small bark of pain. "Yes, my Lord."

"Good." He pulled his hand away from Bellatrix and stood. "Wake the bitch," he growled. "We are not entirely finished with her."

Bellatrix nodded and disappeared into the blackness. She returned with Lily trailing behind her, head down.

"Put it on the table," Voldemort commanded. Bellatrix pushed Lily forward, directing the girl to kneel.

Lily felt a searing pain in her arm and saw the _B_ glowing brightly. _Bella wanted her, Bella wanted her, Bella was coming up behind her, was touching her skin with those cool lovely fingers, was pressing on the small of her back, was making Lily ready_.

Bellatrix extended Lily's unmarked arm and set a small silver cup beneath it. She reached into her dress and withdrew the slim dagger Lily recognized from that first, that perfect, that eternal night. "You wear my Mark, Mudblood," Bellatrix said, "and in His presence we shall be joined." She drew the blade across Lily's arm, her dark blood spilling into the cup. Bellatrix looked deep into Lily's eyes, bringing back those flashing, passionate images, making Lily mute and willing, so willing, and Bellatrix held the dagger out to Lily, displaying the cool white flesh of her own arm, pressing the dagger in Lily's hand, setting the point on her skin, watching Lily so closely, turning her inside-out with her gaze, and Lily pushed lightly on the knife and watched, rapt, as a thin stream of purest scarlet came to the surface, fell in ruby drops down into the cup, pooling in the center of Lily's own, heavier liquid.

Bellatrix took the knife back, setting it down on the cold stone. She lifted the silver cup to Lily's mouth, forcing her to drink. When Lily had swallowed their mingled blood Bella handed her the cup, and Lily repeated her motion. The Mark on Lily's arm flashed, the pain gripped her for a moment and then subsided.

"We are joined," Bellatrix sighed rapturously. Voldemort crossed in front of them, weaving his wand over the cup. After a moment he turned it over and two small, glowing red stones clattered to the table.

"Your heart, Bella," he said and directed her to pick up the stone. She clutched it tightly. "And you, bitch." Lily lifted the stone, it seemed to burn with an internal fire and when her fingers brushed it she felt Bella inside her, so strongly, felt Bella's blood rushing through her.

"Take it away, Bellatrix. You have your orders. I will contact you in a fortnight."

"Yes, my Lord," Bella murmured. "Come, girl. We must leave tomorrow."

She took Lily back to the cold stone chamber they had occupied for the past three days. Bellatrix set her on the bed that had been carved into the wall and looked at her closely. Lily was wavering slightly as she sat, her exhilaration and humming ecstasy welling up in her body.

"I am to marry, Mudblood," Bella said simply.

Lily's face drained. "Who?"

"Rodolphus Lestrange. You do not know him."

"I don't have to know him, Bella, he is not worthy of you."

"My Lord has commanded it."

Lily's vision blurred. Rage pooled inside her, she clutched at the stone in her hand. _Bella, Bella, I love you. Don't leave me_.

"It is convenience, girl," Bella touched her hair. "My Lord has commanded that I marry to secure more families for Him." Her voice was cold, but her fingers trembled slightly as they brushed Lily's cheek. "It is on my Lord's order."

_What about me, Bella?_

"We are joined, pet," Bella said with a touch of something Lily almost thought was regret. "We shall never be separated." She sighed as she regarded the girl, so broken, so weak. Bellatrix did not love her, not in any recognizable way, but there was something, they were joined, their blood ran in tandem through each other's veins. The girl was quite beautiful now, Bellatrix thought, her darkness has made her beautiful. Bellatrix did not feel beholden to Lily, she would marry Lestrange, she would honor her Lord, she would do it in His service, she would do it for His pleasure. Yet she held the girl's heart tightly in the palm of her hand. "You are commanded as well, girl," Bellatrix continued.

"I am?"

"I am returning you to your home tomorrow. You will act as though none of this has happened, as though we have never met. You will act as though you recognize your changed behavior this past year. You will laugh and be the girl you were."

_I could never, Bella, not if you are lost to me._

"Your Lady commands it, filth," Bellatrix said harshly. "You must maintain absolute secrecy within yourself. You are in my service now. You will do as I tell you." Bellatrix darted forward, as though she were going to strike Lily, but Lily did not flinch. Bella stopped just short of Lily's face. "I will be with you," she whispered, and ran her tongue across Lily's lips.

When they woke early the next morning, Lily dressed herself and waited at the mouth of the cave as Bellatrix bid her farewell to Voldemort. Her cries echoed through the cavern, twisting at Lily's heart.

Bellatrix emerged a short time later, still breathing heavily. "We go, girl," she said.

They began their trek through the forest, twisting through the trees and brush, emerging at a low, rocky road. Bellatrix muttered under her breath and a coach appeared, driven by another in the line of sinister men. "Take us to the village," Bellatrix commanded. There was no response, just the slight jolt as the carriage began to move.

After two days of travel they were back at the strange, cold Floo station. Bellatrix stepped into a hearth and pulled Lily after her, pressing the girl to her. "London," she directed, dropping a handful of powder. As the green fire enveloped them, Bellatrix found Lily's mouth and kissed her hard, forcing her tongue through Lily's burning lips. The compression the journey caused pushed them close, impossibly close, and for the brief moment they were in transit Lily felt their bodies were one.

When they emerged in the dark underground station, Bellatrix withdrew her wand and waved it in front of herself, her robes shifting and shimmering into a fair imitation of Muggle clothing.

"Bella—you're not taking me _yourself_, are you?" Lily's voice was incredulous, tinged with excited passion.

"I want to see them," Bellatrix replied. "We must be very careful, my Lord tells me you have been identified and that those traitors at your school have sent out alerts for you."

"And for you," Lily said, fear creeping into her tone. "They must not find you, Bella, oh, they must not."

"They won't find me, girl," Bella cackled. "I have magic they have never witnessed."

"But if they've found out at Hogwarts they must have tried to contact my family," Lily persisted.

"Of course they have," Bellatrix sneered. "Do you think we did not anticipate this, filth? We have put a block on all incoming magical messages. Your house has been charmed so that unless one is physically within its walls it appears that you have been home for a week. Your family has been charmed to believe the same. When you reappear they will not realize you have been gone."

"Oh," Lily murmured. _Oh Bella_.

They ascended to the street, Lily leading Bellatrix through the Muggle Underground, daring to hold her hand—_her hand, oh Bella—_until they emerged near Lily's home. They walked the few remaining blocks in silence, Bellatrix not looking at anything but Lily's body faltering in front of her.

"Walk, Mudblood. We are nearly there."

As they ascended the steps to Lily's house, she squeezed Bellatrix's hand tightly. Lily twisted the doorknob slowly, coldly, and stepped inside.

"Well hello, Puddle!" her father cried from his chair near the fireplace. "Been out late tonight!"

"Just—just getting some last-minute gifts," she choked out, her light, cheerful voice foreign in her throat.

"And who have you brought with you?" He rose from his chair and strode toward Bellatrix, his hand extended. A poisonous blue fire flashed in Bella's eyes as she regarded Mr. Evans.

"This is—this is, um,"

"Bella," Bellatrix said in a way Lily had never heard before. Her voice was high, girlish, tinged with laughter. "I'm a school chum of Lily's."

"Oh, well, nice to meet you, my dear," Mr. Evans said, grasping Bella's hand. "Bit chilly out, isn't it?"

"Quite, Mr. Evans," Bella said in that devastatingly believable way. Lily felt a surge of passion for Bellatrix as she watched her playing her part so well. _So clever, my love. _"Well, I must be off," she fairly chirped. "Don't forget to write, love," she smiled brilliantly at Lily, kissing her cheek, turning, disappearing out the door.

She was gone. She was gone. Lily was wrenched apart. Bellatrix's fine form vanished as soon as she crossed the threshold. Her cool kiss ached on Lily's skin.

"Pretty girl," Mr. Evans remarked offhandedly.

"Yes," Lily whispered.

"What's that, Puddle?"

"Yes," she said more clearly. _Must be good, must obey Her_. "Prettiest in her year, I reckon."

"Well, she's nothing to our Lily," her father said jovially, ruffling her hair.

Lily felt divided from herself. The scene she was playing out was so curiously outside of herself, so foreign and divorced from her. Yet she felt herself slipping into it with ease, felt the hollow shell of her old self slipping tightly around her skin, felt this other girl on her, this other girl's mouth opening, saying things Lily could not begin to imagine saying. The faint disgust at her father, at this man before her, as he called her sickly-sweet names, as he touched her, was hidden cleverly, was suppressed so utterly behind the mask of the girl she was playing that she did not worry for a moment that she would falter in her duty.

_Her duty. Bella marrying some inferior, some unworthy man, he would have no idea of her power, her strength, her beauty, oh, of her love—_

"Lily?" her father said, evidently for the second or third time.

"What's that, Dad?"

"I said you must be hungry. Mum's made some supper, I'm sure we can riffle through the leftovers."

"Sure," she grinned. "Let me just go put my things away."

She leapt up the stairs, slamming her bedroom door. A foreign country, she thought, surveying the room. She shrugged off her robes, changed into scratchy, pulling pajamas _Bella's fingers on her bare flesh, Bella's mouth on her skin_ and carefully fished the red stone from her pocket before folding the robes and placing them on her bed. She squeezed the stone hard and felt Bella rushing through her, though more faintly. She slid it across her body, under her clothes, the contact with her skin amplifying the feeling. Her eyes began to close, her knees buckled, her center was growing hot and liquid—

"Come on down, layabout!" her father shouted up the stairs. "Mum will be furious if you don't eat."

Lily gasped, nearly dropping the stone. "Coming!" she croaked.

"All right, love?" he called.

"Fine, Dad. Just a bit—tired."

"All right then, come get something to eat and off to bed with you."

Lily set the stone carefully in the velvet-lined box her sister had gotten her—under duress, Lily knew—for her birthday the year before. _I will come back, Bella. I will not disappoint you._

She closed the lid with a soft click and headed down the stairs.

Hooray!


	11. Chapter 10

_This is how I die_, Lily thought.

She sat on her bed, surveying the walls of her room. Bright Gryffindor bunting spilled down to the floor, gaudy red and gold gashes breaking up the gray stone.

_This is how I die_.

Bellatrix had been gone for months, years, centuries. Lily had acted her part with surprising ease; she had been afraid that the mask of that other girl would suffocate her but it had been surprisingly easy to slide back into a parody of the cheerful, witty, intelligent girl she had once been.

_I even fooled you, McGonagall._

Lily had come back to school after the holidays and immediately sought an audience with her head of house. She had wept, she had whispered about dark thoughts, she had intimated another suicide attempt, she had even said Bella's name when questioned, had played it off as a tragic, misguided crush. _It was like she had this power over me, Professor, it was awful_. Lily had acted her part so well, with such convincing melancholy and the resolute promise of reformation, that Professor McGonagall went to Dumbledore and reversed her theory. Lily knew they still whispered about her, about Bella, that they still had their pet fears, but Lily was safe again. She had been made prefect, she had been given her own room.

She ached for Bella.

At night, after finishing her homework, Lily would seal her door and pull the small red stone from its hidden place, clutching it and murmuring Bella's name, sliding the stone across her skin, feeling the blaze deep in her belly flare, the path of the stone, the path of her blood and Bella's blood leaving trails of cool fire on her skin, sensitizing it unbearably, Lily pushing the stone between her legs, _Bella's fingers, Bella's mouth_, and as she twisted and moaned on the bed sometimes she bit down hard on her fingers just to taste Bella, to slide her tongue over the bright, slick essence of her.

_This is how I die. This false comfort is killing me, oh Bella, please_

She had married Lestrange. Lily heard it whispered between McGonagall and Dumbledore, heard the worry in their voices. Worried about _him_ more than her, more afraid of what Rodolphus was capable of than what her beloved Bellatrix could do to them, to all of them, to Lily, to _her_. Lily shivered when she thought of Bella's cool hands, her scent of orchids, the flat, heavy traces of white clay and candle wax laced with a fine ribbon of pomegranate, the sharp spike of bergamot. Bella's body, smooth, lithe, curving, the planes of her stomach, her pelvis, the soft slope of her breasts, her slender shoulders, her fine neck, her face, oh her face, her achingly beautiful face like a poison flower, her strong jaw, her razor cheekbones, those liquid, vast, those devastating eyes.

Lily trembled as she imagined Bella with Lestrange, imagined his broad, rough hands pawing indiscriminately at Bella's elegant frame, imagined him pressing himself on her, _in_ her, imagined his guttural grunts as he thrust at her without knowing the true power, the true terrible beauty of the woman beneath him.

She played the scene over and over in her mind, Lestrange and Bella in bed, his body dwarfing hers, making her look insignificant. His fingers like soldiers, all dumb brutality and harsh caresses, his mouth like an animal's, graceless, blundering, and Bella beneath him, writhing for him, crying out his name, clutching his back, thinking of her Lord, thinking of His touch, His power, thinking of Lily—

Tears stung the corners of her eyes. She shook her head swiftly, blinking them away. _I will do my duty for you, my love, my Mistress, I will not cry, I will not allow myself to be so weak, I will not dream of you, Bella, I will not imagine your fingers, I will not imagine your mouth, I will not imagine you, oh Bella, oh Bella, oh please_

She had been forcing herself to watch as it played out endlessly for months, from the moment she had heard the professors whispering of the marriage. _She doesn't love him, she doesn't love him_. Lily knew Bellatrix did not love _her_, certainly did not think fondly of her, did not dream of Lily's mouth, of her body, the way Lily constantly did of hers. But they were joined, she was a part of Bella, Bella was a part of her, their deep blood memory filling in the long, tormented nights. Lily felt ashamed at her raw need for Bella's nearness, for the desperation she felt, the craving, as though something were trying to pull the core of her body up, out of her, was tugging hard at her center, wrenching her, splitting her apart. _My soul is trying to find you, Bella. It will not rest._

Lily's body burned for her lover's hand, her savage passion, the rage and madness and spiraling ecstasy of Bella's agonizing, obliterating, sacred touch. She tried to close her eyes, to force her blood to burst into those brilliant flames; she scored her body with the stone Voldemort had created until the scratches opened and blood trickled down her flesh. The glowing red seed of their fever, their bond, their twisted, malicious, malignant love pulsed in her hand, it grew hot, it throbbed, it sang in Lily's body with Bella's voice,

_Lily. Lily. Lily._

And Lily would bite her lip, would tear at her fingertips, would rock her hips, her hand pushed low between her legs, quivering, shuddering, crying Bella's name she came again and again but never so lucidly, with such annihilation, as she did in Bella's cruel care.

During the days, Lily was bright, outgoing, clever. She re-established her broken friendships, long hours with Alice Pemberley made bearable by the thought of Bella's pleasure, her certain satisfaction with Lily's efforts. She stopped completely avoiding James Potter and his gang of friends; she made special effort to seek out Sirius Black. She despised Black with a deep, blood-borne antipathy, Bella's virulent outbursts about her traitorous cousin had seeped into Lily's consciousness, had _become_ her consciousness, but Siruis's coal-black hair, his pale face with its wide, sloping planes, sensitive, clever mouth, his deep blue eyes made Lily feel closer to Bella.

The real, hidden Lily could not bear the moral superiority of most of the Gryffindors; she began spending time with the more cynical, clever Ravenclaws, and, more carefully, a very few Slytherins who were suspicious of her until they sensed a kinship, a shared, secret lust for power, for pain, for honor beyond defense of the weak. Bellatrix's Mark was well hidden, it swam beneath Lily's skin, but the small number of Slytherins in her circle seemed aware that somehow Lily was different, that she was special. Her acceptance by a rival house did not go unnoticed by either group, and she endured Potter's incessant needling accusations with a patience maintained only by the thought of Bellatrix's orders. She would take the boy to task for his bullying, his hypocrisy, his narrow-mindedness, she berated him in the corridors for being an insensitive prig. Horace Slughorn praised Lily's inter-house camaraderie and began inviting her to his rooms with a select group of students. She went only because the way to Slughorn's chamber passed directly by Bellatrix's old room, because she could recall the sensation of Bella's hands on her that first time, she could reach out and touch her finger to the surface of that surging red sea.

Slowly, slowly, Lily's dreams began to return. At first they were fogged, cluttered, churning rapids of disconnected images, a drop of blood on Bella's hand, a disembodied curling _B_ drifting across a field of red, a room full of silver cups, a stone table, a long, slender dagger, Bellatrix's back to her, a wild mane of hair tangling and spilling over her exquisite shoulders, a black skull with a tongue like a snake.

As the nights passed the images coalesced into scenes, Lily spread on the stone table, Bellatrix with her glorious body, her violent, beautiful face kneeling over her, etching intricate symbols all over her skin, lowering her head, lips parting, raising her bloodstained mouth to Lily's, the voice pounding in her, through her, not just Bella's but _His_, the three of them together, Bellatrix and Him descending on her, pushing at her, ripping at her, biting her flesh, tearing at it, Bellatrix and Him devouring her.

_Bella. Bella. I love you_.

She watched her arm constantly for the emergence of those faint lines that would signify Bella's return to her.

_I will be with you_.

Once she had thought it was happening; she felt the quickening of her blood, the heat beginning to dissolve her core, she stared at her flesh until she was sure she could see a whisper of the Mark, a ghost of it raising against the paleness of her skin, but she waited, watchful, anticipating all night and Bella did not appear.

_She was close to me, she was near, she passed by this place_.

Lily listened carefully to the gossip of the teachers, trying to pick out words, phrases that might bring her news of her beloved. The talk was growing louder, more frequent, and Potter and his friends began to grow agitated, to demand involvement, and Lily found herself spending more time with them, to insert herself into their orbit, to catch any piece of information that might be useful. The Order, the Order, the group of foul saviors making it their mission to destroy _Him_, to destroy Bellatrix, to destroy _her_. She sat quietly as James and Remus railed against Lord Voldemort, talked in grandiose schemes to bring him down, endlessly discussed how they were going to catch him themselves and—

Lily sneered inwardly when their talk came around to how they, a group of gangly, underage boys were going to destroy _Him_, whose power frightened the most experienced, the most skilled, the most adept wizards. She wanted so badly to correct them, to expose their weakness, to laugh in their faces when they spoke of spells, charms, potions learned from their sixth-year textbooks.

She kept silent, and watched, and listened.

She didn't mention Bellatrix, even when Sirius began shouting about how cruel, how savage, how bloodthirsty his cousin was.

_Oh Bella, my beautiful, terrible lover. I am your servant, I am your spy, come to me, Bella, come to me and I will tell you everything, I will tell you everything, I will worship you, I will please you, I will give you anything, oh please, Bella, please_

The Mark remained hidden. Lily remained twisted up in her hateful, vivid imaginings of Bellatrix and Lestrange together, she remained twisted up in her achingly, excruciatingly sensual dreams. She did not falter, she did not slip, she played the part her Mistress had commanded and dreamed from day to day, slid from one hour to the next in a surreal fog of the other girl and herself, the real girl, tangled in their conflicting blood.


	12. Chapter 11

Bellatrix sighed. She was pacing the hallways of the enormous Lestrange house, the click of her heels echoing in the cavernous rooms. She hadn't left in days, hadn't been allowed out, _for her protection_, Lestrange had said. A seething contempt boiled up in Bellatrix as she thought of her husband, parading about the Ministry, commanding the other Death Eaters imperiously as though he were the Dark Lord's right-hand man. And Bellatrix had been held captive here, in this catacomb, unable to contact Him, to gather any information from the outside, when it was _she _in whom her Lord had confided. It was she who was His most loyal servant, it was she who would do anything for Him, _had_ done anything, it was she who had to suffer the nauseating indignity of Rodolphus thrusting into her night after night.

She had no feeling for Lestrange, when he was present she hardly took notice of him. She knew her indifference only stoked his brutal, inelegant lust for her, but she could not bear to speak to him unless the situation demanded it. She had endured his attention these long months silently, thinking of Him, how He would reward her so fully, so perfectly, how He would allow her to return to Him, to sit at his side once more.

_Perhaps He will allow me to kill Rodolphus when it is over_.

The thought warmed Bella slightly.

Far across the house she heard the heavy slam of a door and the measured footsteps and silver clinking against stone that signified her husband had returned. Bellatrix shuddered, inhaled deeply, and walked through the maze of corridors until she arrived in his room.

"Bella, my darling," he said, leaning in to kiss her cheek. Bella turned away quickly and his lips pressed against her hair.

"Rodolphus."

"Busy day around the Ministry. They're starting to pull our people in for questioning."

Bella didn't listen. She was turning away from him, leaving the room, anger burning in her breast.

"Will you have the elves prepare something for supper, Bella?"

Bellatrix froze.

She pivoted slowly back to Lestrange. "Will I _what_?" she hissed poisonously.

"Just anything. Quite busy," he rifled through a stack of papers on his desk. "The Dark Lord has asked me to look at some--"

Her rage exploded in a white-hot cataclysm. "You arrogant, weak, inferior little _puppet_!" she shrieked. "How _dare_ you think you are clever enough, talented enough, _devoted_ enough to even _say His name?_" Her wand was out, shooting deep red sparks around the room. They left small, smoking patches where they landed. "You prance around the Ministry, you hand out code words to nobodies, you pass out information that _I_ have given you, information, plans _directly from Him_, you pretend you are his _equal_," she spat, flames beginning to lick up the walls, "and _I_, whom the Dark Lord holds in higher regard than _anyone_, I am left here like a bitch to her pups, playing _house_ for you, preparing your _supper_, when I am dying, Lestrange, I am dying without Him."

Rodolphus glared at her. "It's for your protection, Bellatrix. They know who you are, what you are. As long as you are in this house you are safe."

"As long as I am in this house I am _nothing_!" she screamed. She pointed her wand at him. "You will let me go, Lestrange," she said, her voice suddenly low and deadly. "I am going to Him."

"You are not, Bella," Rodolphus replied evenly.

"I am!" She raised her wand. "_Crucio!"_

Rodolphus howled as Bellatrix's curse hit him. His body shook, his eyes rolled, he cried out in agony until Bella dropped her wand and he slumped to the floor, twitching.

"I am, _darling_," she spat at his prone body.

As she strode back to her chamber she felt the hot rush of her blood beginning to pool low in her belly. Her power, her strength, the raging maelstrom of rage within her fed the arousal blossoming deep in her body. She had done it, she had proven her dominance, she had proven to Lestrange that she was not a quiet, meek, compliant wife, that she was stronger, so much stronger than he was. Her Lord would be so pleased . . .

_My Lord, oh, my Lord, I am coming to you._

She pulled her cloak around her shoulders, clasping it tightly. Her fingers brushed the bright red stone set in the silver buckle, and fissures of liquid heat split down her body. _The girl. The Mudblood_. Bellatrix had not seen the girl since before her marriage, not since she had taken her to that pitiful, filthy house. Desire for the girl swelled in Bella, the desire to find her, to take her, to make her choke and shudder and worship Bella, to make the girl understand her power.

Bellatrix brushed her fingers over the stone again. _We are caught up in blood, girl. We make promises like cups to carry it._

As she drew the long hood over her hair, pulling it down low to mask her face, she let a low, hungry growl drift over her lips. The dark, tingling, exquisite waves of passion still pulsed through her, amplified by thoughts of what she would do with the girl, to the girl, before joining her Lord, before feeling the intoxicating, overwhelming force of His power crushing her, suffocating her, choking her once again.

Bellatrix drew her wand as she walked to the front door. She did not know what kinds of traces the Ministry had put on her, what kind of traps they had laid for her, but she did not worry. Glancing briefly at the still-motionless form of her husband collapsed on his bedroom floor she smiled, wide, sharp, lethal. Dim candlelight flickered on her mouth as she ran her tongue over her lip, as she delicately licked at her straight, sharp teeth.

_I am stronger than any of them. They cannot stop me_.

She swept out the door, walking quickly down the darkening street. She would go to the Mudblood, would take her away again. They would go to her Lord together, Bellatrix would present the girl to Him, show Him how good the girl was, how loyal. But first—

In a matter of moments Bellatrix stood before the Evans house. The lights were on inside, the cool summer air ruffled the leaves on the trees in the yard. Bellatrix stood in the street watching the dark forms of the inhabitants moving about the house. She brushed the stone clasp, and immediately an upstairs light flicked on.

Inside, Lily had been feigning illness to escape another endless night with her family. The school year had been bearable, there had been opportunities for escape, but summer meant she was surrounded by people day and night. She had taken to going to bed early under the pretense of looking over old books, getting a jump on studying for her final exams. Most nights she lay in bed, clutching her red stone, longing for Bella.

Tonight, though, as her fingers brushed its textured, glossy surface it began to burn and pulse so powerfully that she had to shield her eyes. A sudden stab of pain wrenched at her arm and she tore at her sleeve, not believing that it could be—that it was—

The _B_ glowed brightly against her skin. It was on fire, it was ripping at her, it was agony, _she is here she is here she is here_.

A knock downstairs. Her father opening it. "Oh hello, young lady, are you a friend of Petunia's?"

"Your other daughter, actually."

_It was her, it was her, it was her, that low liquid honeyed poisonous voice, oh it was her, yes, my love, my Mistress, yes._

Lily shot upright in her bed for a moment, then yanked her sleeve down and bolted down the stairs. "Visitor, Puddle," her father said and ruffled her hair. Lily couldn't hide her revulsion, pushed past him nearly knocking him down, and burst into the entryway.

Bellatrix stood on the step, shrouded in black, her luminous skin, the bright beacons of her eyes, the luscious red purse of her lips, _she was there, she was real_ and Lily couldn't help flinging herself to the ground at Bella's feet, pressing her head to her lover's thigh.

Her father had come back into the room and was staring, shocked, at his daughter on the ground clutching at the skirts of a very beautiful woman. She looked vaguely familiar, though he couldn't put his finger on it, something about her purple eyes, her gaunt face, but she was very beautiful, yes, Mr. Evans felt himself drifting away from his body as he stared into the woman's eyes, her lips moving faintly, Lily breathing heavily at her knees, he couldn't understand why his daughter would be doing that, clinging to her like a drowning girl, and the woman was reaching down, was cupping Lily's face, stroking her cheek—

"What's going on, love? Who is it?" His wife appeared in the doorway next to him. "Lily? Lily, what are you--" she stopped abruptly, as bewildered by the sight as her husband.

"The girl is mine," Bellatrix said coolly. "Many thanks for looking after her." She withdrew her wand. The Evanses were immobilized with shock, fear blooming on their faces. "It's you," Mrs. Evans whispered. "You're the one Dumbledore warned us about."

"_Dumbledore_," Bellatrix sneered. "Always blowing things out of proportion. _Stupefy!"_

A red jet of light struck Mrs. Evans, who clutched at her husband's hand before falling to the ground, eyes wide.

"Mr. Evans," Bella said calmly, "your daughter and I are leaving you now." He was motionless, staring slack-jawed at his inert wife. "_Confundo_," she said almost casually, over her shoulder, as she lifted Lily and walked her out the door.

Lily took a few trembling steps before collapsing against Bella's body _her body, her blood, I can feel her blood in me, it is singing, it is you, oh Bella, Bella I love you_ and moaning low in the hollow of her throat.

"The Muggles are not injured," Bellatrix said dismissively. "They will believe her collapse was unrelated to you, and that you left to visit friends."

"I don't care," Lily murmured. "I don't care, Bella, Mistress, I don't care about _them_. Take me away from them, they are killing me."

"Yes, pet," Bella crooned softly, stroking Lily's hair. "We are returning to the Dark Lord."

Lily's knees buckled as Bellatrix's voice swirled lovingly around the words. The rich velvet sound rolled over her, seeping in her mouth, her nose, filling her, inflaming her. Bellatrix's body, her hands on Lily, the perfume that drifted from her skin made Lily so weak, so helpless, so needy, desperate, made her writhe despite herself, when Bella was near Lily's brain was fogged, all she could do was feel and taste, when Bella was near Lily was blank, empty aching, her body crying out to be filled with her lover.

Bellatrix pushed Lily back to standing and took her by the arm. "Not yet, Mudblood," she murmured. "Soon."

They vanished into the descending night, moving swiftly down deserted streets and twisting through heavily shadowed alleys to the cold, empty Floo station. Bellatrix was leading Lily to a hearth when the girl couldn't stand it any longer. "_Bella_," she groaned, pulling at her hand. Bellatrix shivered at the raw lust, the palpable hunger radiating from the girl, and allowed herself to be led into a shrouded corner, masked by an enormous marble pillar blackened by soot and ash.

Lily did not think. She acted automatically, the intensity of her desire controlling every move she made. She grasped Bella around the waist and pushed her up against the wall, Bella's hot breath on her cheek, she unclasped Bella's cloak, let it slide to the ground, she ran her tongue lightly from the hollow between her lover's breasts, up her throat, pushing her mouth against Bella's, pushing her body against Bella's, pressing her hard against the wall, pinning her arms over her head, kissing her lips, her jaw, her throat, tugging at Bella's earlobe between her teeth, forcing her knee between Bella's legs, driving it hard against her sex, making Bella jerk against the wall, both her wrists held up by Lily's hand, her free hand pushing Bella's skirt aside, searching for her center, Bella crying out harshly, her eyes closed, head back, biting her lip as Lily slid her hand deep inside her, still balancing Bella's body on her knee, Bella's leg wrapped around hers, Bella's fingers flexing hard against Lily's grip, Bella pushing down on Lily's hand, rocking against her, Bella twisting on Lily's fingers, arching her back, whimpering, keening, bucking her hips, Lily biting at the cool white skin of her throat, her collarbones, her breast, not thinking, fucking Bella, Bella _allowing_ Lily to fuck her, to dominate her, to control the sensation, to shove her against a wall to pin her to a wall in a deserted station to take her without permission, _oh Bella yes yes yes yes yes_ and Bella arched up, out, pushing twisting shuddering her body, thrusting hard, crying out wordlessly as she exploded for Lily.

_For me_.

Only after Bellatrix stopped trembling did Lily release her hands. She did not withdraw her fingers from Bella's body, she did not lower her knee and allow Bellatrix to stand firmly on the ground. Lily's hand was at Bella's waist, she gazed into Bella's eyes, their swirling indigo depths.

Bella was silent except for her ragged breathing. She looked at the girl for a long moment, then leaned forward, rocking slightly against the fingers still inside her, whispered, her voice quaking, uneven, in Lily's ear.

"I could kill you for that, cunt."

Instead, she held Lily's face in her hands and kissed her roughly. She bit wildly at Lily's lips, she pierced Lily's flesh and the warm bloom of blood spilled over both their tongues. Lily shifted her hand, sliding it up and down slowly as Bellatrix sucked at her, Lily's arm sliding around Bella's waist, pulling her more firmly onto her knee, lifting Bella's body, lowering it slowly, excruciatingly slowly, Bella murmuring in her ear, her breath growing rapid, shallow, she lifted her leg and locked it tightly around Lily's waist, tangled her fingers in Lily's hair, pulling hard, their bodies swaying together, Bella's incoherent whispers coming faster and faster, Lily's fingers pushing into her body, stroking her core, Lily possessing Bella, making her come, making her gasp, making her head fall back, her fingers twist painfully in her hair, Lily leaned down and ran her tongue again over Bella's throat, leaving a thin crimson line.

"You won't kill me, Bella," she murmured. "I love you."

"Yes, girl," Bella sighed, slowly untangling herself. She gasped lightly as Lily withdrew her fingers, her eyelids fluttered as Lily gently brushed a wild lock of hair from her face. They stood for a moment, still wrapped in darkness, Bellatrix's luminous eyes burning Lily to her core, Lily's blood rushing furiously through her body, crying her name in that beautiful mixing, swirling voice.

Bellatrix watched the girl as she straightened her cloak, bent low to the ground to retrieve Bella's. When Lily raised her face again Bellatrix pulled her arm back and struck her hard.

"Never think you control me, bitch," Bella hissed. "I am your mistress. Anything you do is done because I have _allowed_ it."

"Yes, Mistress," Lily moaned, a thin trickle of blood issuing from her nose.

Bellatrix fastened her cloak tightly around her throat once more. Lily turned away, moving out into the dim light of the station, when Bellatrix grabbed her arm from the shadows and drew her back in. She cupped Lily's face softly, her eyes searching the girl's. "Do not turn away from me, Mudblood," Bellatrix purred. "It is a dangerous thing to do." She slid her hands under Lily's cloak, brushing her nipples, sending bolts of liquid fire coursing through her body. Bella pressed her cheek to Lily's, her breath cool against Lily's skin, her hands drifting across Lily's body. "Filthy Mudblood whore." She flicked her tongue over the still-bleeding bite on Lily's lip. "Come girl. He is expecting us."

She pulled Lily into one of the countless deserted hearths and dropped a handful of powder. As the green fire swallowed them, Lily shivered and clutched tightly at Bella, her lover responding by taking her finger between her lips and biting down.


	13. Chapter 12

The trip felt faster than it had before

The trip felt faster than it had before. Faster, yet agonizingly slower. Every step closer to the Dark Lord's cave caused a rush of blood to jolt through Lily, she was so close to Him, her Mark and Bella's were burning feverishly on their arms.

Bella whispered the incantation and the entrance to the cavern opened. Lily slipped in behind Bellatrix, swaying in the thick, bloody atmosphere. _Him_.

He emerged from the darkness, more beautiful and terrible than Lily remembered. Bellatrix sank to her knees as He approached, and Lily fell to the ground, her palms flat on the cold stone.

"Bellatrix," he hissed. "To what do I owe this . . . unexpected pleasure?"

"My Lord," she murmured. "My Lord, I have returned to you, I have brought the girl--"

"I can see that, Bella." His voice was silky, threatening. "But why have you left your husband?"

"He had me locked up, my Lord, I was forbidden to leave the house, I could not call to You, I could not feel You, I was in such pain, my Lord--"

"Pain, Bellatrix?" Voldemort laughed, a cruel, unnatural sound. "You have never known pain." He flicked his wand at her, and she contorted, screaming, twisting on the ground. Lily kept her face down, mute, Bella's blood liquid fire in her veins. The pain seeped into Lily, crossing their bond, making her whimper.

"And you, girl," He turned to Lily. "You have left your home?"

"Yes—yes, my Lord," she whispered, the words choking in her throat.

"Stand up, Mudblood."

Lily struggled to her feet. Voldemort flicked his wand over Bella's body and she screamed again, louder, her agonized wails ricocheting off the walls. Voldemort turned to Lily, his eyes blazing. As he approached her the overpowering aura of blood, of death swallowed her, she trembled, she gasped in fear and awe as Voldemort extended his hand, icy fingers brushing her cheek. His touch was like acid, brilliant green fire flared across Lily's vision, the echo of Bella's screams ripping through Lily's body, a sharp flashing pain rolled through her.

"It is good you have been brought here, filth," he said as he stroked her cheek. "You are needed."

Lily wavered, her knees began to buckle, the poisonous, fatal air clutching at her lungs, the spiderwebs of pain searing her flesh, the quivering, brilliant flush of heat spreading between her legs, He was touching her, the burnished agony, the suffocating desire of that touch, Lily was slipping under, was falling fast into the familiar red sea, she blinked once, twice, but the crimson film did not dissipate and Bella was there, Bella was suspended, her hair swirling around her face, Bella was reaching for her, she was pulling Lily down—

_This is how I die_.

"Not today, Mudblood," Voldemort said, breaking away from her. The world solidified again, the cold rock, the blood-soaked air, Bella still laying on the ground, Him there, Him walking away from her, to Bella, lifting her high in the air with a wave of his wand.

"Bellatrix, you should not have abandoned your post."

"No, my Lord," she gasped. "I have disobeyed You, please forgive me, please--"

"Forgive?" Voldemort barked harshly. "What do you take me for, Bellatrix? Your husband? Your lover? Unless I am mistaken your husband is in London and your lover is standing across the room." He twitched his wand and Bella crashed to the ground, a long gash opening on her cheek. "But it is no use my punishing you. Your loyalty prevents it. Not from any preferential feelings I have for you, my dear--" he sent another jolt of pain through her, through Lily—"but because nothing I do, short of killing you, will teach you anything. You're a clever bitch, Bellatrix, but one who licks the hand of the master that beats her."

Bella sat silently, eyes downcast, blood running down her face.

"You are here now, however," Voldemort said, clipping his words. "At least you have had the good judgment to bring your servant. Come here, girl," he commanded. Lily stumbled to him. The power radiating off him intensified unbearably as she neared, she fell to her knees and crawled across the floor to him.

"You belong to Bellatrix, Mudblood," he said, "but you are in My service. You will do as I command."

"Yes," Lily said feebly.

"I have given Bellatrix to Rodolphus Lestrange. Her marriage has provided me with many useful connections, many new followers. You, on the other hand, are not capable of doing the same, no matter who I would give you to. Your dirty blood makes you far less valuable to those whose assistance I require. However," he paused, gaze piercing Lily, "you do have a purpose. You are acquainted with one James Potter, I know you have been associating with him and his pathetic friends. Your watchfulness will prove useful to me, I am sure. He is just a boy but he clamors too loudly to join the fight against me. I will need your information, your inside knowledge of his Order. It is to him I am devoting you."

Waves of misery crashed hard over Lily, cold, bright, clear waves. _Potter_.

"You are to follow your mistress's lead. You will marry Potter when you complete your _education--_" the word twisted in his mouth—"at Hogwarts."

_Not Potter. Not anyone. She belonged to Bella, she was Bella's pet, Bella's servant, she loved Bella, oh please, not Potter, she was Bella's, her love, her lover—_

"Enough." Voldemort's voice thundered across the walls of the cave. "Bellatrix has proven her loyalty to me by marrying Lestrange, which I assure you was not her choice. Would you disappoint your Mistress by refusing a far more enviable choice?"

Lily glanced at Bella, her lover's wide lucid eyes shining brightly in her pale, drawn face. She was blank, impassive, but Lily could feel her shock, her surprise resonating in her blood.

"As for her," he moved to Bella and pulled her up roughly by her hair, "I have no doubt she will be as pleased as I with what you will be able to accomplish. Won't you, Bella?"

"Yes, my Lord," she whispered. Voldemort released her and she shied away, deferential and quiet.

"You are commanded, Mudblood," he said imperiously. "Your part is growing, more than I ever thought it would. It seems Bellatrix is not so foolish as I thought. When she first told me of her devoted slave I was shocked, disgusted, disappointed that she would have the poor judgment to take a piece of Muggleborn filth as her lover. However, she has proven her choice was the correct one, and you have proven to be most promising."

The words wrapped around Lily like a shimmering red cloak. _He was pleased with her. She was needed, she could serve Him, could serve Bella, could be a useful thing, could try to atone for her impurity, her ugly, dirty blood, could operate in His service, she could become a part of his Dark power._

"Bellatrix," Voldemort said coldly. "Go back to your house. Take this with you," he indicated Lily. "Your duty is to me, and I have commanded that you serve as Rodolphus's wife. You will not fail me again, I hope?"

"No, my Lord, never, I will never disappoint you again."

"I doubt that very much, Bellatrix. But as you are truly my closest ally, and often I think your slips are made out of the depth of your devotion, I believe I will communicate to your husband that your leash is to be lengthened. I trust you can evade whatever paltry traps the Ministry, the Order have set for you?"

Rapture spread across Bella's face, the agony of a moment ago forgotten. "My Lord," she murmured, "my Lord."

"The time grows serious, Bella. We have very little room for error. I do not think your coming here now will present any significant difficulty, but the future is less certain. Rodolphus tells me my Death Eaters are being pulled in for questioning."

"Yes, my Lord."

"Nothing must stop me, Bella. Nothing must stop us."

Bellatrix's breath caught in her throat. _Us_.

"Your devotion is essential, Bellatrix. Your slave's devotion to you, as well. Ensure her loyalty to you does not waver." He sneered. "However you choose to enforce it."

Bella nodded. "Yes, my Lord."

"When you return home, you may take the Mudblood with you. She may remain with you until she has to return to her studies. If Rodolphus gives you any difficulty, it is on my order."

Something very close to joy bloomed in Lily's heart. _To stay with Bella, to stay with my lover, to be with her, close to her, for weeks. Bella, Bella I love you_.

"Thank you, my Lord. Thank you." Bella crawled to Voldemort, curling at his feet. He kicked her away, she spiraled across the floor, coming to rest next to Lily.

"Go now, Bella," he said darkly. "Take the bitch and return to your husband."

Lily pulled Bella up, her eyes locked on the glittering ruby swath across her cheek. Unable to stop herself she ran her finger across it, Bella's bright blood sweet and liquid on her hand. Bellatrix stared at her, expressionless, and Lily did as she had done so many times before, in reality, in her dreams, in the murkily lit halfworld she floated in, and licked the blood away.


	14. Chapter 13

As they approached the ominous, forbidding façade of the the Lestrange house, Lily realized she was clutching more and more tightly at Bellatrix's arm. Three days of travel, of thinking about this moment, of imagining the unimaginable bliss of living with her, being with her for weeks, uninterrupted, dreaming of the days, the nights they would have together had kept Lily in a state of heightened awareness, of excruciating sensitivity, had made her dizzy with desire and anticipation.

Now, standing before the imposing house, they paused. Bellatrix sighed deeply, almost a groan, and looked at Lily.

"Lestrange is unhappy with me," she said. "I'm sure his anger will be quite evident. Do not speak to him."

Lily nodded.

"You will stay behind me at all times."

Lily nodded.

"Do not be afraid of him, girl. Remember who is more powerful." Bella reached out and turned the elaborate silver knob. The door opened silently on to a long, dim hallway. They stepped in, Lily was nervous, so nervous, and Bellatrix was silent, her face white. As they passed by countless well-appointed rooms Lily stared in awe, drinking in the house. _Her house. I am in her house_. They climbed an ornately-carved staircase and entered Bella's room.

A high, enormous bed occupied the back half of the space. Slender, arching posts spiraled to the ceiling, anchored with iron fittings. The fireplace crackled, flames reflecting off the pale glass mirror opposite it. _Her bedroom._

They faced each other, unsure of what to say. Lily was uneasy, not knowing where to put her cloak, not knowing where to stand or what to do with her hands. A rare uncertainty flitted across Bella's face, for a moment she looked almost as nervous as Lily. After a beat she cleared her throat. "You will sleep here, with me. You may put your things in the armoire."

Lily turned quickly to the massive closet filling one wall. The heavy black lacquer was cool to the touch, she opened it and hung her cloak on the first hook she found. To her surprise and slight horror she found she was blushing uncontrollably. Being in Bella's house made her hesitant, made her awkward. _It shouldn't. It is Her house, my Mistress's house, I am only here to serve Her, to be of use to Her. _

Lily resolved to keep herself firmly under control. The intoxicating aura of Bellatrix flooded her senses, confused her, filled her with desire and lust and the familiar ache for Bella's power, her dominance. Yet she almost felt like giggling.

"Are you hungry?" Bella's voice was forced, artificial. "The elves will have something ready for us shortly."

Lily nodded, watching Bella closely. After a moment her lover beckoned her near and she went to her shyly.

"Undress me, girl," she said, her voice edged with barely-repressed desire.

Lily's hands shook as she untied the laces of Bellatrix's dress, as she knelt down and lifted the hem high up and over Bella's head. She slowly removed Bella's delicate camisole, the black lace fluttering between her fingers. As her fingertips brushed Bella's cool skin she felt her lover shudder, breathing heavily. Lily grazed her flesh lightly, spreading her open hand across Bella's back, just barely making contact, her blood pulsing so quickly through her body as she untied Bella's black skirts and slid them down to the floor.

She was on her knees, her hands running up and down Bella's smooth, fine legs. Tentatively, she leaned forward and bit the soft flesh of her thigh lightly. Bella gasped, and placed her hand on Lily's head, guiding the girl around, so Lily was facing her. Lily stared at Bella's body, she had only seen it once before, long years ago, and it was more beautiful, more perfect that she remembered it. She looked into Bella's eyes, searching for her permission, remembering the sharp bolt of pain in her cheek from Bella's hand. Her deep blue eyes flashed as Lily watched, and she slipped her hand up the inside of Bella's thigh, softly, gently, and stroked her with one careful finger. Bellatrix closed her eyes, her head tipping back slightly, and she placed both hands on Lily's hair, pulling her up on her knees, guiding her mouth between her legs. Lily's hands slid around Bella's body, drawing her closer, she traced her tongue over Bella's burning core, sucking gently. Bellatrix sighed softly, her fingers clutching at Lily, she undulated against the girl's mouth, Lily could feel her pulse hard against her tongue, her lips, she rocked against her, against the slow rhythm of Lily's touch, Bella's mouth open, Bella's fingers twisting in her hair, Bella's cool body under Lily's hands, the hard heat of her sex, an avocado seed, a buried ember, as Lily sucked harder, drew Bella's flesh between her teeth, as Lily bit down gently Bellatrix gasped and arched and pressed Lily's mouth against her hard, coming silently, the waves of her orgasm making her body rock and her pulse flutter. Lily dragged her fingernails lightly down the unmarked flesh of Bella's legs, she left light, delicate kisses across her thighs, up her stomach, she got to her feet as she kissed up Bella's body, pulling Bella's nipples into her mouth one at a time, clasping them in her teeth, she ran her tongue over Bella's thin, prominent collarbones, up her long, elegant neck, she kissed Bella's lips softly, pushing her tongue into Bella's mouth, letting her taste herself on Lily's lips.

They were standing there, entwined, Lily's hands stroking Bellatrix's naked form, when the door flew open and Rodolphus Lestrange burst into the room.

"You filthy bitch!" he roared, barreling across the floor, gripping Bella's arm and wrenching her away from Lily. "First you disobey my orders and leave this house, you _dared _to disobey me, to insult me, to _curse_ me and leave me helpless, and you come back with . . . _this_. This _whore_. In my house! You—you _bitch_! What do you think they'll say when they find out? The Malfoys, the Carrows, the _Blacks_, for Merlin's sake! What do you think they will _do_ to us, to _you_?"

Bellatrix did not struggle. "Release me, Rodolphus," she said calmly.

"I will not!" he shouted. "You have gone too far, Bellatrix. I have tried to be patient with you, I have tried to indulge your _appetites_," he spat, the word ugly in his mouth, "and you do _this_."

"Release me," she said again.

"Bitch!" Rodolphus twisted Bella's arm behind her back, forcing her to press close to his body. Bellatrix's face was impassive.

Lily felt rage and fury boiling up in her. He was abusing her, he was daring to attack her Mistress, he was calling her filthy names, hurting her, Lily's vision blurred, she wanted to hurt him, to destroy him—

"You might as well know, Rodolphus, since you're convinced everyone is going to find out, that the girl, as well as being female, is also a Mudblood."

The room was silent except for Bellatrix's measured breathing. Rodolphus was frozen, his face white with rage, his fingers digging into Bella's wrist, his jaw clenched tightly as he stared at Lily with revulsion.

"A Mudblood," he hissed. "You have brought filth into this house, Bellatrix. You have been defiled by filth. You have soiled your blood, _my_ blood, you have destroyed centuries of honor, you have--"

"It is on the Dark Lord's order."

Rodolphus was dumbstruck. "The Dark Lord?" he said after a moment. The shock on his face drained and was replaced with violent, seething hatred. "You lie, Bellatrix. Our Lord would _never_ allow such dirt to contaminate--"

"Do you pretend to know the Dark Lord's mind, Rodolphus?" Bella was harsh and angry, her rage made more terrifying by her cool, clipped speech. "I wasn't aware that you and He were so _close_."

He roared with fury and threw Bellatrix on the bed. "Whore," he muttered, advancing on her. "Disgusting, traitorous whore." He pinned Bella's shoulders to the bed and only then did she begin to struggle.

"Release me, Rodolphus."

Lestrange did not respond.

"I said _release_ me."

He leaned back for a moment, and Lily thought he would do as Bellatrix had commanded. Instead he swung his arm back and hit her hard across the face.

Lily did not think. She ran to the armoire and ripped her wand out of the pocket in her cloak. Rodolphus had only a moment to notice the girl bearing down on him fast, wand pointed squarely at his chest, before the jet of red fire slammed him across the room. "_Crucio!_" Lily screamed.

The force of the curse was greater than Lily had anticipated. Lestrange hit the opposite wall and slumped to the ground, unconscious. Lily stood trembling in the center of the room, her wand still raised.

Bellatrix sat up on the bed, blood shining on her lip. She said nothing to Lily, instead crossed to her own cloak, withdrew her wand. She stood before Rodolphus, her face waxen, immobile with wrath.

"You will suffer, Lestrange," she said, her voice devoid of affect. "_Rennervate._" He blinked groggily, residual pain coursing through him visibly, rendering him unable to move. "I disgust you, do I?" A red flash, Rodolphus twitching, in too much agony to scream. "I dare defile myself with a Mudblood in your house?" Another flash. "I lie when I tell you it is at my Lord's command that she is here?" Another flash. "I _disobey_ you?" A bright, unwavering ribbon of flame pulsed over Rodolphus's stricken body. Lily remained standing, breathless, still clutching her wand as Bellatrix tortured her husband. Bellatrix lifted the tip of her wand, brushing away a lock of hair. "You will never touch me again, Rodolphus."

He groaned, motionless on the floor. Bellatrix snapped around, facing Lily, her face pale, terrifying, her chest rising and falling rapidly. The aura of her rage glowed palpably, radiating off her, making her look like an avenging warrior queen. Despite her shock, despite her intense fear, Lily was overwhelmed by Bellatrix's fierce beauty, her dazzling, awesome power. Bellatrix crossed to her and for a moment Lily was afraid she was going to raise her wand again. Instead, she threw her arms around Lily's neck and kissed her with such violent, consuming passion that Lily's wand clattered to the floor, she felt herself going limp, the dark flower at her center burst open, as Bellatrix devoured her Lily began to faint, to swoon, to collapse. Bellatrix seized her roughly, forcing Lily to the bed. On the floor, Rodolphus tried to make a sound of protest, and Bellatrix sneered.

"Don't want to watch, _darling_? Afraid it will make you sick? _Petrificus totalus_," she said, almost casually. "Afterward you can tell me if it's because she's a woman or because she's a Mudblood."

She turned back to Lily, white-faced and shaking on the bed. "I won't hurt you, pet," Bellatrix murmured. "I am going to show _dear_ Rodolphus how completely he has been mistaken in his attentions."

Lily glanced at the stiff, prone form of Lestrange on the ground. His eyes were open, Lily could feel the hatred, the disgust seething within him. Her gaze remained locked on him as Bellatrix lifted herself onto the bed, parted Lily's legs, ran her hands smoothly up her thighs, up her torso, pushing her shirt up, Lily sitting up, raising her arms, Bellatrix sliding the material over Lily's head, Lily stared at Rodolphus as Bellatrix unbuttoned her trousers and pulled them off, removing her underwear, Lily naked on the bed under Bella, Lily watching Rodolphus, the total stillness of his face and body belied by the blazing fire in his eyes, as Bellatrix placed her hand on Lily's ankle, setting it gently on her shoulder, ran her tongue up the length of Lily's leg, Lily's body quivering, never breaking eye contact with Lestrange, as Bella bit at the soft skin of Lily's stomach, her hand snaking up between Lily's legs, her mouth at Lily's breast, the coolness of her mouth, the dexterity of her tongue as it flicked over Lily's nipple, sending bolts of liquid heat through her, meeting the inferno at the base of her belly, Bella's hand entering her, her fingers stroking, stroking, Lily finally looking away, eyes sliding closed, as Bellatrix lowered her mouth to Lily's aching core.

The intensity of Bella's mouth on her exploded through Lily's body, her nerves were shattered, she was all blood again, she was all boiling, searing, exquisite sensation, _Bella, Bella I love you, oh yes, oh my love, oh yes, yes, _and as Bellatrix stroked deep inside her, as Bellatrix sucked and licked and flicked her tongue over Lily's flesh she felt she could not possibly stand any more, she felt her body beginning to tighten, to bloom, she felt the rushing waves of heat approaching, _Bella Bella Bella Bella Bella_ and as Bellatrix touched her, so gently, so tenderly, so intuitively _oh yes_ Lily couldn't hear, couldn't see, she was swallowed by the sea, she loved Bella so completely, she belonged to Her, as Bellatrix sucked Lily's orgasm out of her Lily realized that Bellatrix must not despise her, must not hate her, must not dismiss her so casually as she had expected, she had believed. _Bellatrix loves me_, she thought, and that thought sent her spiraling far beyond the reach of the world around her.

When she woke, Bellatrix and Rodolphus were gone. Lily was momentarily paralyzed, afraid Rodolphus had managed to free himself from Bella's spell and had done something to her. After a beat of sheer, engulfing terror Lily chastised herself for believing, even briefly, that Bellatrix would be incapable of defending herself. Unsure of what to do, she crossed to the armoire and pulled out a black robe. She slipped it on and walked tentatively out of the room.

Silence filled the house, dark and threatening.

Lily descended the staircase, anxiety clutching at her. _Where are you?_

Faintly, she heard a clattering from farther down the hallway. She approached cautiously, and discovered Bellatrix, dressed in a loose, flowing gown. She was seated at one end of an immensely long, impeccably polished table. At least a dozen chairs were placed at each side, and at the foot sat Rodolphus, his face twisted in sullen silence.

"There you are, girl," Bella said almost cheerfully. "Come, sit with me. The elves have prepared our supper as promised."

Lily took the seat nearest Bella. "Closer, girl," Bella murmured, low and seductive, but loudly enough to cause Rodolphus to blanch with fury. "Don't worry about him, pet. He's learned his lesson. Haven't you, Lestrange?" He said nothing, kicking at an elf who was bustling at his feet with a heavy silver tray. "Are you hungry?"

Lily nodded, unable to speak. Bellatrix lifted a long silver knife, holding it elegantly in her long, slim fingers. She speared a piece of meat from the platter in front of her and held it out to Lily. With the barest glance at the glowering Rodolphus, Lily parted her lips and took it delicately in her mouth. Bellatrix withdrew the knife languorously, her smile brilliant.

"Such a good thing, isn't she, Rodolphus? So _obedient_."

Lestrange stood angrily and left the room without a word, kicking the elf again so that it squeaked and dropped its tray.

"Oh, look what you've done now," she called after him, a malicious, mirthful grin playing on her face. She returned her attention to Lily, raising the knife to her cheek, pressing the blade flat against her skin. "No matter," she breathed. "He is nothing to us."

_Us_.

Their eyes locked for a long, exquisite moment. Bella slid the knife down Lily's face, the tip scratching faintly at her throat, and she held it there for an instant, pressing it slightly at Lily's thrumming pulse, the sharp prick of the blade pushing at her skin, breaking it, a single ruby drop of blood blossoming around it.

"You serve me, girl, and I serve the Dark Lord. It is in His service that I have married that repulsive man, it is in His service that you have been brought here." She breathed out slowly. "It is in _my_ service that you stay."

Lily could not move without the danger of cutting her throat. She would have, gladly, she would have sacrificed her life for Bella, to make Bella more glorious, more powerful.

"You must not, Mudblood," Bellatrix whispered, divining her thoughts, "though your devotion brings me great pleasure. Do not forget that we both have our parts."

Lily's heart screamed in her breast. _Potter_. She had nearly forgotten that she was to seduce the boy, to _marry _him, that she would be forced to leave Bellatrix.

"It will not be so awful, girl," Bella soothed. "You are doing it in service to your Lord. And it is not so difficult to escape a husband."

Lily nodded slightly, the motion driving the point of the knife deeper into her throat. The droplet of blood became a thin trickle running down her neck.

The sight of her blood caused a malevolent glint to spark in Bellatrix's eye. "We're not so hungry, are we, cunt? Perhaps tonight something other than food will sustain us." she whispered, the madness in her voice tempered with lust, with something hiding under the lust that made Lily weak.

_Us_.


	15. Chapter 14

The last blazing days of summer slipped by with astonishing speed. Lily emerged into the sunlight outside of Bella's house, dazzled by the glow. She had not seen the light in many days, her hours with Bella primarily nocturnal, the screams from their ferocious, bloody, violent love reverberating through the empty rooms, causing crows to call harshly from the trees outside, enraging Rodolphus so completely that he took rooms in another part of the city under the pretext that his house was being watched too closely.

As Lily stood blinking on the step, her trunks and school things brought from her spell-shocked parents and piled at her feet, as she forced herself to accept that this was real, that she was leaving Bella, that she would have to return to that wretched place full of spies, full of traitors, full of people who would see her beloved destroyed, see her Lord destroyed. A long black car pulled up in front of the house, the rear door clicking smoothly open. It was real. It was happening.

She glanced back into the dark entrance to the house. Bellatrix stood there, eyes luminous in the dim light, her face ice-white, blank, impassive.

"Bella," she whispered, agony ripping at her.

"It is time, girl," Bellatrix said, her voice flat and emotionless.

A black-clad wizard was putting her things in the car. Lily couldn't bear it a moment longer, turned and rushed into the house, kissing Bella fiercely. Bellatrix did not respond, did not return the kiss, her lips cold, her skin cold.

Lily backed away, devastated. She climbed into the car, staring at Bellatrix until it slid away, carried her away from her love. Lily clutched at the red stone dangling from a thick silver chain around her neck. _Her blood. Bella's blood. Their bond._

As the car pulled up to the station, Lily tried to find her voice, that false, happy voice, tried to pull the hollow shell of her lively persona over her.

The station was crowded with people, Muggles, wizards, witches, dozens of young students. She moved blindly to the platform, her luggage on a trolley behind her, pushed by the black-clad driver. As she crossed the barrier onto the Hogwarts platform she was momentarily stunned, repulsed by the crowd around her. _How insignificant you all are. How you will suffer, how you will exalt in His presence_.

"Oi! Evans!"

A cold tendril of dread, of hatred, coiled through her as James Potter approached.

"Yes, James, I did lots of Muggly things this summer," she snapped, before remembering she was supposed to be engaged to him by the end of the year. She quickly put a wide smile on her face.

"What's that Ministry git doing with your luggage?" he asked, pointing to the driver.

"Ministry?" Lily was momentarily speechless. "Oh—him. Yes. Well, I'm under—I'm under surveillance. I guess Dumbledore and the rest of the Order haven't forgotten that business with Bellatrix Black."

"Filthy bitch," Potter swore. Rage flashed through Lily. _If you knew, if you knew how you will scream, how you will beg to take your words back_. "She been giving you trouble?"

"Oh no," Lily said as dismissively as she could manage. "Can't be too careful though, I imagine, times being what they are."

"Right," Potter said grimly. "Listen, will you sit in our compartment on the way? Things to discuss."

"Can't," she said. "I've been made Head Girl." The letter had arrived at her family's house and had been brought to her at Bella's by an anonymous, black-cloaked figure. Lily shivered involuntarily as she remembered how pleased Bella had been by her appointment, how pleased the Dark Lord had been, how Bella had rewarded her.

"Well, brilliant," Potter said, chuffing her arm lightly. "Guess we'll all have to be on our best behavior, then."

"Who's on their best behavior?" Remus Lupin and Sirius Black appeared next to Potter.

"Evans is Head Girl, boys, best watch out."

Lily smiled. The unintentional irony of his statement had brought her genuine amusement.

"Nice work, Evans," Black said. She saw that he still looked at her askance, slightly suspicious.

"Right, then, let's get on the train before all those bloody first-years take the best seats." Potter and his gang boarded, disappearing into a compartment very near the one reserved for her. As she passed by, Potter stuck his head out. "Oi!" he hissed. "Can we talk when we get to the castle?"

"Of course, James," she said, touching his fingers lightly. He blushed slightly and pulled his fingers away from the compartment door.

"Good," he mumbled, and ducked back inside. Lily could hear the muffled jeers of his friends as she pulled her own door shut.

After the train had squealed to a stop, after Lily had ensured that all of the students had disembarked, she walked slowly to the carriages.

"There she is!" Potter shouted, pointing at her. "We saved you a place."

Lily climbed in and sat next to him, her skin crawling slightly as he shifted in his seat to press his leg against hers.

"All right," his tone shifted, became serious. "I'm sure we all had a lovely holiday, but we have things to discuss. I've been in contact with the Order over the summer, and good news, they're letting us in. Strictly apprenticeships, of course, until we've graduated. But this is excellent news, I'm sure you'll all agree." The group nodded enthusiastically. "We've got permission to attend Dumbledore's meetings, and we're supposed to keep an eye out at school, which makes Evans's getting Head Girl even better. I'm sure it wasn't by accident. Not that you'd not have earned it anyway," he added hastily. "Those bloody Slytherins are plotting something, I know it."

Lily held her tongue. _They actually believed mere students would be capable of anything. _She remembered Bellatrix as a girl, her extraordinary power even then, and smirked silently. _My Mistress is an exceptional creature. Only One is greater than she, and you still think you can defeat them._

The carriage shuddered to a stop before the main entrance to the castle. Potter and his friends were animatedly discussing their plans, what they thought the Order would accomplish, how they intended to learn better, more powerful magic to bring Voldemort down. As they stepped out of the carriage, Lupin and Black rushed ahead, their excitement causing them to forget about Potter, about Lily. Pettigrew, the silent, short, round one, the forgotten member of the group who always eyed Lily with an inexplicable envy, glanced briefly at her and Potter, who was dawdling next to the coach. Pettigrew shrugged and ran off after Lupin and Black, calling for them to wait.

"So," Potter said with forced nonchalance. "You did have a good summer, then?"

"Brilliant," Lily said, perverse amusement bubbling in her.

"Umm . . ." he drifted off.

"I have to wait for everyone to get inside," she said, breaking the silence. "Will you wait with me, James?" Suppressing her nausea, she touched his hand again.

"Yeah, of course!" James blurted. "I mean, yeah, sure." He grinned awkwardly.

_Fool_.

Once inside, she sat with Potter and the rest of them, inwardly despising the way they held their heads higher than anyone else, the way they acted so smug, so righteous. She nearly dozed through the start-of-term announcements, the same blather about togetherness, about camaraderie, about new appointments, about the same mundane business they heard every year. Her ears pricked up when she heard _Dark_ being whispered by several students around her.

"What's that?" she said.

"Just warning everybody about what they ought to know already," Potter whispered. "Alerting us all to Dark business about."

"Oh," Lily replied, and drifted back into her reverie, painfully aware of the stone around her neck, hidden beneath her robes.

Once the announcements were over and the feast set out, Lily ducked out of the Hall. "Got to check on the dormitory," she said by way of excuse, making sure she brushed Potter's shoulder on the way out.

_It's so hard, Bella, it's so hard already. _

After she completed her duties, Lily unpacked her trunks automatically. The same red-and-gold Gryffindor bunting slashed down the walls, the same bed, so paltry compared to the one she had left earlier that morning. As she undressed, her eyes flicked down to the bare, smooth flesh of her arm. She was so tempted to stroke it, to call Bella to her. She suppressed the desire, just barely, and finished unpacking. _Must be good, must obey_. She contemplated her duty, the early success she was having with Potter. It would be no problem to seduce him, at the rate she was going she would be engaged within the week. She shuddered as the image of Potter above her, thrusting into her, flashed across her mind.

_Must not think of it. It isn't real. It doesn't matter._

She withdrew a sheaf of acid-green paper that had been tucked into the lining of one of her trunks. Bellatrix had given it to her days before. "Use this," she had said. "Write your message and throw it into the fire. I will wait by my hearth for five minutes at midnight and again at three in the morning. If I do not receive anything I will assume you have forgotten about me."

Bellatrix had given it to her, ostensibly for sending reports on the Order, but the way she had pressed it in her hands, the way she had added that last line, _I will assume you have forgotten about me_, told Lily updates from behind enemy lines were not all Bellatrix was expecting.

_Dear Bella_, she wrote, and crossed it out.

_Mistress, the Order has allowed Potter and his companions to join Dumbledore's meetings. I will attend, as I have already made headway on my assignment._

She stared at the ink as it soaked into the paper, the edges bleeding slightly. The urge to write more, to spill her anguish on the page, was overwhelming. _Caught up in blood_, she added without knowing why.

Lily glanced at the enormous clock set into the wall. Nearly midnight. She crossed to the fire, blazing merrily, and as the clock struck, as the tower bells pealed across the night, she threw the paper into the flames. They crackled bright green, and the page vanished.

A moment later, a flash of pain tore at her arm. The _B_ glowed brightly, for the briefest of instants, and faded.


	16. Chapter 15

Lily sighed.

She was alone in the house. James had gone out, had gone to the Ministry to talk with Frank Longbottom about a new set of Dark spells that had recently been uncovered. He had kissed the top of her head, given her shoulder a brief squeeze and bolted out the door an hour earlier.

Now she was alone. She twisted the gold band on her finger idly, staring at it as though it were a mysterious alien object, and thought of Bella. _Bella_.

Lily had been sending her updates regularly for the past year and a half. Lists of names, planned meetings, rosters and inventories and coordinates. All around her, members of the Order were being threatened. The group was growing restless, beginning to think they had a traitor among them, but never for a moment did they suspect Lily, beautiful, perfect, charming, clever Lily, James Potter's wife. _Oh Bella, this is agony._

She had not seen Bellatrix for an eternity, not face-to-face, though once, months ago in Diagon Alley she caught a glimpse of a slim frame, a shock of black hair, and the Mark on her arm burned brightly, her knees turned to jelly, until the figure slipped out of sight. Lily knew it had been Bella, had been her love, knew it must have been her, for only an hour before Potter had proposed to her and she had accepted.

And now—

She sighed heavily again. Most days she had nothing to do, not from a lack of trying, but because on most days there simply was nothing. Aside from threats to the Order, The Dark Lord had not yet begun his aggressive campaign, that would be several weeks, months, possibly, in the future, and Lily was growing impatient with her life as a bourgeois wife. She often thought of running away, of going to Bellatrix, of refusing to leave her, refusing to leave their bed. Her soul longed for Bella fervently, but her body's ache was so piercing, so acute, that more than once she had tugged on Potter's ear and led him into the bedroom, the heavy red pendant swinging between her breasts, desperate to feel _anything_. She never let Potter enter her, she always pushed his head low, she needed to be able to close her eyes and try to pretend, but it was useless. He was clumsy, graceless, overeager. _Not like you, Bella, my Mistress, my love. Not like your nimble fingers, your elegant mouth. He never makes me come, Bella, he never makes me feel._

She exhaled slowly, lost in memories of Bella. The weeks they had spent together felt like a distant dream, except at night when she was thrust again and again into the dark, swirling universe of her lover. Lily's dreams of Bellatrix, of her lips, her teeth, her hands, their surging passion, their black, heavy ecstasy, came frequently, so unbearably real, so unbearably sensitizing her in her sleep that Potter had woken her on more than one occasion, mistaking her moans of pleasure for nightmares. She never hated him more than she did when he woke her, when he plunged his hand into that rolling red sea and pulled her out, gasping and sputtering.

Lily had begun drawing her own blood again.

She did it quietly, surreptitiously, in subtle, careful ways. She bit her fingers, bit her lips, let Potter think she was clumsy, let him feel strong and confident as he bandaged her torn hands, let him chide her like a child as he warned her to be more careful when chopping the vegetables. She let him say anything he wanted, think anything he wanted, so long as she could deflect attention from the hypnotic pull of her blood, of Bella's blood, so long as she was able to continue to open her veins, to suck the sweet, bitter liquid from her fingertips.

It was unbearable.

After a year of intermittent communication from various Death Eaters, none of them her beautiful mistress, Lily felt she was going insane. She ached to be with her, to do something useful to help her, to help the Dark Lord. She sneered when Dolohov, when Carrow thanked her on behalf of the Dark Lord for her services, she felt herself growing restless, growing impatient, needing to get out of her domestic trap and back to the decadence, the throbbing, exquisite power of Bellatrix's orbit. _Bella. Bella, I love you_.

On the longest days, the days when Potter stayed at home and inserted himself into her life, Lily's desperate longing for Bellatrix was almost more than she could stand. She locked herself in the bedroom, furiously stroking herself, imagining Bellatrix standing over her, cruel eyes burning, her lush body and magnificent face so close, so close, and Lily would come, biting her lip to keep from screaming her lover's name.

She continued to send her reports, deep red ink on acid-green paper, and as the days passed they grew longer, more fervent, darker, heavier, they became her desperate love letters. She threw them into the fire at midnight, unless Potter was being persistent. Every night she waited, holding her breath, to see if anything materialized in the hearth.

There was nothing, nothing, for months. No return messages from Bellatrix; even her Mark had stopped appearing. _I will know you have forgotten about me_.

Today, as she sat next to the fire and tugged absentmindedly at her ring, as thoughts of Bella pulsed through her, she thought she would go mad trying to maintain the façade. She didn't think she could stand another second in this house, this tiny, suffocating house, her husband so attentive, so painfully in love with her, so pitifully devoted, knowing nothing of the real her, the true Lily, the woman who had never once thought of him as he pressed himself on her, the woman who thought only of a pair of luminous indigo eyes, a poisonous, an intoxicating mouth, thought only of the body of her lover and the fearsome, ecstatic power of her Lord.

_You will be destroyed, Potter. _

It was the only thing that kept her from leaving, from rushing away, from finding Bellatrix. There were times, however, when her grasp was tenuous, her patience and her temperance wavered. Times like now, when she wanted nothing more than to see the Mark on her arm flare, to carve it there again, if she needed to, just to see it, to prove it was real.

Lily could not wait any longer. The weeks, the months, the endless, dragging hours without Bella, without her Lord, were too much to bear. She leapt up from the chair and ran to the small kitchen, tearing drawers off their tracks, searching desperately for the long silver knife Bellatrix had placed in her hand a lifetime ago. She laughed with relief when her fingers brushed the cool blade, she pulled it out of the drawer, slicing her sleeve open, baring her white, unmarked flesh.

And it happened again.

As she pushed the point of the knife at the place she knew the curving letter started, a burst of green light flashed in the living room.

The knife clattered to the ground as Lily bolted back into the room. _Bella._

A slip of green paper, edges charred, drifted through the air. Lily snatched at it, her heart racing.

_Both of Us very pleased with your work. Meet midnight, village post_.

That was all.

Lily's fingers shook so intensely that she had to set the paper down for fear she would tear it.

_She was coming. Bellatrix was coming. She was coming to see Lily, to meet her, to touch her—_

Lily gasped as the familiar sharp pain sliced up her arm. Her Mark was glowing, burning, pushing up through her skin. _She was near_.

The hours passed with agonizing sluggishness. She hardly noticed when James returned, his face ashen, and told her that there had been an unconfirmed sighting of Bellatrix Lestrange in London.

"I'm setting up some extra protection for you," he said. "I know it was years ago—you've already reminded me of that. But Sirius seems to think she might come after you again."

"Sirius," Lily sneered involuntarily. "I mean, really, how is _he _going to know what's on Lestrange's mind?"

"Just let me do this, love," he said tenderly. "I worry about you."

Lily shivered. When he said those things to her, spoke to her about _love_, about _honor_, about _protection_, it made Lily want to withdraw her wand and silence him. It made her want to kill him in a cold, dispassionate, disconnected way, just to eliminate the interference he always seemed to be placing in front of her. _Must not, girl, must not_.

"It'll only take a bit," he said as he moved from door to window, muttering protective spells under his breath. "You'll be safe as can be, nobody but me will be able to get in here."

"For how long?" she cried. "Will I be able to get out?"

James looked at her uncertainly. "Well, the charms will be there until I take them down. Lily, please darling, this is all for your safety."

"James," she sighed, "I _need_ to be able to leave my house. I need air, and sunlight, and all of those things. I need to not feel like a bloody _prisoner_."

The vehemence of her declaration made him blink slightly. "Well--"

"Anyway," her tone became low, seductive, she crossed to him and ran her hand playfully through his hair _filthy bastard, He will kill you and I will laugh_ and kissed him on the cheek. "Don't you trust me to take care of myself?"

"What's that?" James asked, pointing to the green paper Lily had left on the table. He was about to cross to it, to pick it up, he was going to read it—

Lily put her hand on the back of his neck and kissed him hard. "Just a little love note from my secret admirer," she teased. "Want to make him jealous?"

James looked dazed as she broke the kiss. "Uhh . . . I . . . I can't," he said, shaking his head sadly. "I've got to get back to the Longbottoms'. I really only came home for a minute, to fix this place up with some new charms."

"Too bad," Lily murmured. She dropped her hands, silently glad she had changed her shirt, the _B_ still burning brightly on her arm. As she left the room she casually reached out and swept the paper from the tabletop.

"Lily?" James called after her. She ducked her head back into the room. "Promise me you'll be careful."

"Always, dearest," she said, impressed by the plausibility in her voice. "When will you be back?"

"Not until late tomorrow, I'm afraid," he frowned. "We've got to really keep an eye on this Lestrange business."

"Right," she said. "You be careful too, eh?"

"Right," he smiled. "See you tomorrow, love."

She waved vaguely at him as the door swung shut behind him. She looked at the clock. It was half-past eleven. The Mark ached on her arm. She went to the bedroom and pulled her dark cloak from its hook on the wall. Wrapping it around herself, she touched the gleaming red stone that glowed warm against her skin. _I am coming, Bella_.

Lily glanced around the house briefly, disgust welling in her. _Soon it will be over, this imprisonment, this torment_.

She slipped out the door quietly, the lock catching with a smooth click. The night was chilly, her breath drifted in front of her in a soft white cloud. She hurried down the lane, crossing through the cemetery, mist hanging heavy over the ground. The village signpost was far on the other side of the Hollow, and she walked quickly. As she approached she heard the clock tower chiming midnight, and her breath caught in her throat as she glimpsed a hooded black figure standing near the tall wooden pole. _Bella._

Her lover's face, pale, orchidaceous, poisonous, was luminous beneath the hood. Her eyes flashed as she saw Lily approaching. She was thinner than before, if it was possible, her skin tight over her delicate bones. Deep circles like bruises bloomed under her eyes, her lips were white and drawn.

"Bella? What's wrong?" Lily asked softly. Bellatrix said nothing, raised a finger to her lips. She began to walk rapidly away from the post, Lily running to catch up to her. When they were deep in the woods surrounding the village Bellatrix turned to her and captured Lily's mouth with hers.

"You taste of him, Mudblood," Bella whispered.

"It was necessary," she replied simply.

Bella's harsh, biting kisses fell all over Lily's body, she fell to the cold ground, leaves and twigs catching in her hair, roots pushing at her spine. She felt nothing but the sensations Bella was creating, the heat and the lust and the elation of being back in her lover's arms, her Mistress's arms.

"There isn't much time," Bella growled as she tugged Lily's earlobe between her teeth. "We are preparing for our first strike, girl, and you are needed."

_Anything, anything_.

"Alice and Frank Longbottom," Bella hissed, forcing her hand under Lily's skirt. The cold touch of her fingers at Lily's sex made her writhe and moan. "Where are they?"

"At their home," Lily gasped. "But Potter is there."

"No matter," Bella thrust her fingers inside Lily, making her cry out. "We will not be going to them tonight. The Dark Lord wants to make sure they do not try to escape, not like before."

The Longbottoms had been targeted earlier in the year, and on their honeymoon had been ambushed by a group of Death Eaters, narrowly escaping. The failure had enraged the Dark Lord, Lily remembered the sudden jolt of pain from nowhere as he had punished his followers for their mistake.

"You've been seen," Lily groaned as Bella's fingers twisted inside her. "Potter said somebody tipped off the Order that you were seen in London."

"But I'm not _in_ London, am I?"

"Oh—oh—no, no, oh yes, Bella, yes--"

As Lily bucked at Bellatrix's touch, as her orgasm opened up and swallowed her, she faintly heard Bella's voice, very faintly, in the distance, tinged with sadness and rage.

"You are to bear a child, Mudblood."

The words were meaningless to Lily as she rocked on the waves of Bella's red sea.

Only later, as they lay breathless on the forest floor, did the impact come, breaking over her, crushing her.

"_What_?" she choked.

"A child." Bella's voice was restrained.

"_Potter's_?"

"I don't know of anyone else."

_Oh Bella, oh no, no, no, I cannot have his child, to have it inside me, killing me._

"It is at the Dark Lord's command."

"But _why_?" She was stunned.

"A sacrifice," Bellatrix said quietly.

"He wants me to kill it," Lily muttered.

"Yes."

"To prove my devotion."

"Yes."

"Haven't I proven it? Haven't I endured the same agony as you? And now, to have a _child--_"

Bellatrix was silent. The leaves whistled faintly in the slight wind.

"Bella, please--"

"The child will bear my blood as well. It is to be _our_ sacrifice to Him."

"But Bella--"

"It is commanded."

They lay silently, shivering slightly in the chill, as the cold night pressed down on their bodies. Bellatrix reached out slowly, gently tangling her fingers in Lily's, as a tear slipped down her ashen cheek.


	17. Chapter 16

The infant burbled happily in his crib.

Lily stared at him, her face blank. She didn't know how to feel about the child, hadn't known from the moment she knew she had become pregnant. Potter had been overjoyed, had trumpeted to the Order that a new generation of fighters was going to be brought into the world.

_Poor fool_, Lily had thought with the barest trace of regret.

The boy had her brilliant green eyes. Her eyes and thick, unruly black hair that Potter had claimed immediately but Lily denied within herself. _Bella_.

Lily was not sure she would have loved the boy had Bella's bright crimson blood not flowed within his veins. She looked at him and all she thought was _Bella, Bella, Bella_.

She did not look at the boy often.

She did not pay attention to the boy often. He had learned not to cry early, learned not to make any sound. Lily was glad of it. The days were so long, so fraught, so deadly that to care about another human being, to care about someone other than Bella, was impossible. She often stared at him as though he were foreign, as though he were a book written in another language.

Potter adored the boy; Lily was pleased. He spent most of his time with young Harry—named for Potter's father, Lily had made no objection. Every moment spent with his son was a moment less spent trying to persuade her to have another.

_Oh Potter, if you knew the plans the Dark Lord had for this boy._

Lily carefully avoided her child. She knew the days were short before she would have to destroy him, to sacrifice him to her Lord. She and Bella together. It would be their perfect sacrifice, the boy that shared their blood, the son of an unloved father yet created out of love, out of such love—

_Bellatrix loves me._

Since the night she had told Lily of the Dark Lord's plans for her, Bellatrix had maintained a greater interest in her servant. Letters passed through their fires regularly, almost daily. Lily's were often carefully copied notes from meetings of the Order, last known location of its followers, the names of family members. Voldemort's action was swift and brutal; dozens of fighters on the side of the Order had been killed or vanished, still more had been tortured for hours, for days, their prone bodies left in the forests.

There were the Longbottoms, finally, after a second failed attempt. Lily had confirmed their location, had convinced Alice to stay home with her new baby instead of _risking the child's welfare_ by going to one of the countless meetings the Order organized. Frank had remained with her, concerned for the safety of his wife and son.

A group of Death Eaters, led by her own fearsome warrior queen, had blasted open the door and had their way with them. Bellatrix recounted it to Lily during a long night soon after the Longbottoms had been dealt with, told her how she had bound Alice to a chair and forced her to watch as she cursed Frank into insanity. How she had laughed as Alice screamed.

"I didn't use my wand on her once," Bellatrix had sighed, running her hand up and down Lily's naked torso. "The girl went mad of her own accord."

And Lily was so proud then, so proud of her fierce, relentless, remorseless lover.

"We didn't kill the baby," she had said after, once she and Lily were lying entwined, breathless on the bed. "The boy."

"I'm glad," Lily whispered, kissing the tips of Bella's fingers.

"We should have. _I _should have. It is my duty, in these situations."

"I know," Lily said, her lips pressed to Bella's palm.

"But I didn't. I told everyone else to leave, and then I . . . didn't do it."

Lily was silent. Bella's voice was so soft, so fragile. Lily was overwhelmed by it, frightened by it.

"I was afraid He would find out. But he didn't care."

Lily murmured wordlessly at Bella's neck.

"It only matters if they kill their own."

Lily froze. "What?"

"That's what the Dark Lord said. 'It only matters if they kill their own.' That is how He knows, how He knows if they are loyal, or if they're like those filthy Longbottoms, it is how He knows we have succeeded in breaking them." Bella was still speaking in that curious, fragile voice.

"Then it doesn't matter that you didn't," Lily said finally.

"I disappointed Him," Bella sounded very near tears. "He trusted me, and I disappointed Him."

"He trusts you more than anyone, Bella. You are his most devoted servant."

The words echoed through Lily's mind as she looked at her son.

_It only matters if they kill their own._

Her longing for Bellatrix was intense. She was desperate for her lover to come to her, to take her away from everything, to control her, to command her, to take her with force. _Oh Bella, please, I can't any more._

It did not matter that James was rarely at the house. The Order was frantic, the Dark Lord was rising, was gaining ground all over the country, all over Europe, and Dumbledore and his pathetic followers were scrambling to throw up whatever meager defenses their diminished ranks could manage. He was gone nearly every night, trying to connect with the remaining members of the Order, working desperately to find who had betrayed the Longbottoms. Lily relished the solitude, she spent long hours thinking of Bella, thinking of her Lord, dreaming about the future, the glory she would bask in when the Dark Lord was finally able to take power. Only the boy disturbed her.

He was silent, alert, he seemed frighteningly _aware_ of her, as though he knew what she was going to do. _You are for Him. Your blood is owed Him._

Though she was glad to have time alone to dream, she was growing more and more anxious as the days passed. He was growing stronger and stronger, the Death Eaters growing bolder, bloodier, and Lily was left alone, her son watching her with those piercing eyes. Lily wished desperately for the day to be at hand so that she could join Bellatrix, that they could perform their final duty to the Dark Lord together, that the boy would be gone, that his inquisitive, gleaming eyes would stop following her.

The fireplace roared. Lily turned to it, breathless, waiting for the slip of green paper to materialize. Nothing. She approached it cautiously and jumped when she saw Potter's face staring out of the embers.

"Lily—Lily--" his breathing was labored, frenetic, his voice nearly hysterical. "Lily, are you there? Lily!"

"Yes, what is it?"

"Lily—oh God—don't leave the house. Don't leave the house, Lily, my darling, love, _please_ take Harry and lock yourself in the safest room, the bathroom, _somewhere_."

"What is it, James?" She didn't hide her anxiety, her nervousness, knowing Potter would mistake it for fear. A blazing excitement exploded in her, swelled through her, roared through her veins. _It was happening. At last_.

"He's--" James's voice cut off abruptly, and when he spoke again it was low, desperate. "Voldemort is here, Lily. Voldemort is at the Ministry. He's got a bunch of us cornered, Lily, he's got his Death Eaters here, they're--"

"Is Bellatrix there?" she asked, breathless.

"What? I don't—I don't know. I don't know, Lily. Take Harry, hide yourself, put up whatever protection you can manage. Just do it, love, _please_. I'm coming, I'm coming to get you, I'll be there as soon as I can--"

The fire flickered out. James's face sank back into the hearth as the glowing embers smoked, faded to black. The air grew cold around her.

_Bella_.

Lily's pulse began to race. Her blood sang hot and sweet through her, her knees trembled as the front door swung open.

_It is her it is her, it is my Mistress, it is Bella, my love, she is hear, the time has come, oh yes, Bella, yes—_

"Mudblood," Bellatrix growled, her voice choked with violence and lust.

"Is it--"

Bellatrix swung her wand hard around behind her. The door slammed shut, pictures shook on the walls. The fireplace roared back to life, ice crackled across the windows.

"He is come, girl. It is time."

"The Ministry--"

"The Dark Lord is disposing of the final few obstacles in his way. Soon he will arrive."

"Potter, he's coming back here."

"Let him come," Bellatrix cackled, high, cold, glorious. "We shall be waiting for him." As she advanced on Lily her eyes flicked across the boy in his crib and she stopped in her tracks. "The child," she breathed.

"Yes," Lily murmured, desperate for Bellatrix to touch her, to tear at her, to prepare her for her Lord.

"He looks like Potter."

"No," Lily whispered.

"Yes," Bellatrix replied, a hint of desperation coloring the ecstatic fury in her voice. "He looks like Potter. Like the traitor, girl, he looks like the traitor."

Lily understood.

"Bella."

Bellatrix did not respond. She walked slowly to the boy, reached out her hand, stopped short of brushing the thick black hair from his forehead.

"Bella." Lily walked up behind her, touched her shoulder lightly.

Bellatrix snapped her head around, as if Lily had woken her from a dream. Fury, lust, rapture bloomed on her face, illuminated it, made Lily weak. Bellatrix cried out and seized Lily's arm roughly, pulling her away from the boy, knocking her to the floor.

"It is time, Mudblood, it is time." Her voice was ragged, bloodthirsty, streaked with madness. She stood over Lily, her hair wild, her eyes blazing, far away, the Dark Lord's Mark on her arm writhing like a living thing.

"Bella," Lily moaned, twisting under her, tearing at her clothes, her hair loose, a corona around her head, her eyes closed, lips open, drinking the power, the manic, violent, raw energy spitting off her lover. Bellatrix dropped to her knees, straddling Lily. Taking great handfuls of her hair, twisting them hard, making Lily cry out, pressing her mouth to Lily's, forcing her tongue inside, sucking on Lily's lips hard, biting them, blood spilling down, spilling down Lily's cheek, blood staining Bella's mouth, their blood, it burned, it seared the skin, it was roaring so loudly through Lily, Bella screaming through her body, Bella screaming on top of her, Lily pulling frantically at the laces, the buckles, the buttons that separated her skin from her lover's, Lily crying out as Bella's cool flesh met her burning body, as Bella's hands ripped at her, raked at her, marked her, Lily crying out as Bella scratched her soft thigh deeply, as Bella forced her hand, cold, furious, beautiful, between Lily's legs.

The red sea rushed in on her, filling the room, drowning her, drowning Bella, swallowing it in deep, aching mouthfuls, drawing it into their lungs with desperate and jagged breath. Lily screaming, bucking against Bella's thrusting hand, her arms clutching at her, around Bella's waist, pushed deep into the wild tangle of her hair, Bella's cries so feral, brutal, keening wails, Lily threw her head back and opened her throat, her rapture so intense she made no sound.

Bellatrix pulling out of her, Bellatrix pulling her up by the hair, Bellatrix throwing her against the wall, the long red scratches on Lily's body brilliant, Bella's Mark raising up, pushing at her skin, Lily clutching at the curtains to prevent herself from falling as Bellatrix thrust her legs open violently, falling to her knees, her mouth on Lily, her mouth, her mouth, the blood from Lily's lip dropping to her breast, bright spatters on her gleaming white skin, ruby beads glistening in the firelight, Bella sucking her, Bella forcing her tongue deep within Lily's body, Lily clutching Bella's head, holding her mouth there as she writhed, as she shuddered, as she came with such intensity that the curtain was ripped from the wall.

Lily wrenched Bellatrix to her feet, pulled her across the room and lay her down on the sofa. Bella's face was radiant, enthralled, bliss and rage and lust and anticipation in her wide eyes, her open mouth, the rapid rise and fall of her breast. Lily stroked her skin fervently, touching as much of her lover as she could, before falling to her knees, still sliding her hands across Bella's cool skin, biting the softness of her inner thigh, licking her, Bellatrix gasping, Bellatrix calling out His name, calling out _oh girl, oh girl, oh yes_, Lily plunging her tongue hard into Bella's body, her lover arching, thrusting, screaming, flames boiling over the mantle, vases clattering on the tables, Bellatrix twisting, Lily sucking, biting, scratching her smooth, perfect body—

Crimson waves broke over them. Bella gasped, she sighed, her eyes slid closed and she lay on the sofa, panting heavily.

"I love you, Bella."

She looked at Lily, slightly startled. She opened her mouth, said nothing. A low rumble nearby caused her to leap up and struggle back into her dress. "He is coming, girl, make yourself ready." Lily pulled her clothing back on, beginning to tremble with anticipation, with readiness, for His arrival.

The boy watched them closely. Lily tried to look away from him, tried to pretend he was already gone, that she and Bellatrix were already enthroned in the glory of the Dark Lord's victory. She drew close to her lover, beginning to feel herself slowing, growing languid, preparing. She was not afraid. She was perfectly calm, was ready, was ready to welcome Him.

Another rumble, closer, louder, so loud that a window near the back of the house shattered.

Lily clutched Bellatrix tightly, pushed her face into Bella's neck, her arms around her waist. Bella stroked her hair softly, their bodies swaying slightly as they felt the growing power of the Dark Lord, felt him drawing near.


	18. Chapter 17

_It is time. It is happening. The Dark Lord is come, the hour has arrived, His power is unstoppable, He is here, He is here, it is time._

Lily was on her knees before Bellatrix, the woman's fingers in her hair, brushing her cheek, sliding in her mouth. Bella's face was radiant, ecstatic, the rush of her blood was audible. Lily clutched at her, silent and still.

"Get up, girl," Bella whispered.

Lily stood.

"He will be here shortly, He is coming."

"Yes . . . yes . . ."

"We are victorious, girl, we have taken our power."

Lily murmured incoherently as she pressed her face to Bella's neck. Anticipation fogged the room, made the air heavy, and as they stood, entwined, the faint, deadly aura of blood began to seep into the atmosphere.

"Lily? Lily, what the bloody hell is going on? I heard glass breaking, are you all right?" James burst through the door. He stopped dead when he saw his wife, arms tight around Bellatrix Lestrange's waist, her face nestled into the hollow of the Death Eater's throat. "Lily?" he whispered hoarsely.

"Hello, Potter," she said dreamily.

"What's going on?" he persisted, his voice shattered, his hands shaking.

"He is come," Lily replied simply. Bellatrix laughed softly, stroked Lily's hair, lifted her chin and kissed her on the mouth.

James was speechless. After a moment, he managed to croak out a few disbelieving words. "Who—who is—Lily, that's Bellatrix Lestrange, what are you--"

"He is come, Potter," she kept murmuring in that same low, hypnotic voice. "He is waiting."

"Lily, have you been cursed? Lily, look at me. What have they done to you?"

"They have _released_ me, Potter. They have _saved _me. I am free, Potter. All those years of suffering, of acting a part, all those years of waiting for Her to come and free me, for His majesty to unfold over the earth, oh Potter, it has happened, and He is come."

James blinked in shock, a terrible look twisting his face as he realized what was happening. "It was you," he whispered, his voice breaking with despair. "The whole time, it was you. You were the spy. You gave up Frank and Alice. And now—and now you're here, with _her_."

Lily smiled, appearing only half-conscious. "At last," she agreed.

"I have to stop you, Lily," he said, voice trembling, tears collecting in his eyes. "I have to stop you."

"It is too late, Potter."

James was moving quickly, trying to get to his wand. Bellatrix pointed hers at him almost lazily, knocking him backward. A moment later his wand was in her hand.

"I see you have taken care of the minor obstacles, Bellatrix," hissed a cool voice from the doorway. _Him Him Him_. "You have my appreciation."

Bella smiled distantly and continued to stroke Lily's hair. With her other hand she threw James's wand at Voldemort's feet. The Dark Lord put his foot out and with a loud crack snapped it in two. James blanched.

"We have saved you for last, Potter. For the moment we knew victory was at hand. Your cleverness is considerable, but alas, cleverness is useless when there is a spy in your house." He nodded at Lily. "For a filthy Mudblood she has proven to be quite intelligent, has she not? And I'm sure Bellatrix will agree, her charms are beyond reproach."

James flushed deep red with fury. "You're not going to win, Voldemort," he spat. "You're not going to kill anyone else tonight. Not me, not my family."

"You're quite right, Potter," Voldemort responded silkily. "I'm not going to kill you."

He held his wand out.

James stared, paralyzed with shock, as Lily stepped forward and took it, the intense power that coursed up her arm made her swoon slightly as her fingers gripped the polished wood.

"Lily--" he whispered.

"Goodbye, Potter," she said simply. "_Avada Kedavra!_"

His body fell, heavy, to the ground.

Intense waves of power washed over her. She was drowning, she was sinking, her Lord was pleased, so pleased, she had performed her duty so well, Bella was behind her now, kissing her neck, biting her throat, pushing her body against Lily's, oh, she was Bella's, she was His, she was _free_—

Voldemort withdrew his wand from Lily's trembling hand. "Excellent, Mudblood." He motioned for Bellatrix, Lily groaned as her lover's cool lips pulled away from her skin, as Bella crossed the room to him. "Bella, pet," he said, "it is nearly time. The end has arrived, the beginning is at hand."

"My Lord," she murmured.

"Yes, Bellatrix. We have only one task remaining." He pushed her roughly away, pointing his wand at Lily. "We must dispose of the filth. We must purge our ranks, we will be uncontaminated, untouchable, we will be pure." Lily's eyes widened, her breath crushed out of her by an icy fist.

_This is how I die._

"No!" Bellatrix screamed, rushing at him, trying to rip the wand out of his hand. He knocked her across the floor.

Voldemort turned to Bellatrix slowly, fury crackling off him with hot green fire. Bella's eyes were wide, her mouth open, she gasped shallowly and tried to stand. Lily could not move. Potter's limp body lay on the floor before the crib, her preternaturally silent baby, his unblinking green eyes bright, staring at it with grave interest. Voldemort advanced on Bellatrix, his wand pointed at her.

"You disappoint me, Bella," he said with such cold, terrifying finality that she stopped struggling. "You have allowed your feelings for this _filth--_" he quickly flicked his wand at Lily, the excruciating pain making her double over with a silent scream "—to cloud your mind, your judgment, you have chosen the love of a useless, repulsive _thing_ over the power of your Lord." His voice was impassive. "It was not a wise choice."

Bella did not move. Lily watched, blinking through her agony, as Voldemort enveloped her in a poisonous, shimmering net, flinging Bellatrix high into the air. "_YOU ARE NOTHING, BELLATRIX_," he roared, the force of his rage causing the temperature to drop, causing the air to freeze in Lily's lungs as she watched, helpless, her heart ripping apart in her chest, pain and anguish twisting like knives in her belly, she wanted to scream, she wanted to stop Him, she wanted to save Bella but she couldn't scream, she couldn't breathe, she could only watch in horror as Bella, her love, her love, as Bella was—

"_THERE IS NOTHING GREATER THAN THE POWER I POSSESS. YOU HAVE DESTROYED YOURSELF." _The words thundered through the house, causing pictures to fall off the walls, dishes shattered in their cabinets, mirrors exploded, broken glass flying through the rooms. The boy did not make a sound, did not take his piercing green eyes off his father's body. Bellatrix hung limp in the air, her lips pursed tight, her eyes locked on Lily's with an expression of such wrenching, aching, burning love that Lily cried out, fell to her knees. Voldemort did not glance back, did not break contact with Bella. "_YOU HAVE BETRAYED ME, BELLATRIX. YOU HAVE MADE A VERY FOOLISH MISTAKE, YOU STUPID--"_ he twitched his wand and Bellatrix slammed violently against the wall. _"LITTLE." _Again. _"BITCH." _ Again.

Voldemort dropped his wand and Bellatrix fell hard to the ground, not moving. A thin trickle of blood ran from her nose, her ear.

_Bella. Bella, I love you._

He pointed his wand at Bellatrix again. Her eyes fluttered open.

_Bella_.

"Look at what you have done," Voldemort said, silky, malignant, bitter rage slipping over the edges of his words. "See what happens when you betray Me, slut."

_Bella_.

Bellatrix tried to sit up but could not balance herself. She touched her hand to her ear, briefly, and stared in wonder at the deep red stain on her fingers.

_Bella._

Voldemort turned to Lily, still on her knees, frozen in terror, in horror, in awe. His eyes raked over her face, her body, and he seemed to change his mind. When he raised his wand, he pointed it at the boy. "Your _love _child," he sneered. "Do not forget I am owed its blood." Lily, suddenly realizing of what Voldemort was going to do, managed to cry out.

"No! Not Harry! Take me instead!" she screamed, throwing herself before the boy. _Not him, no, if I die it does not matter, but our blood, her blood, it flows through the boy. Not him, not him, let it be me, I will be your sacrifice, take my blood, take mine._

As he drew his wand back, as the words left his lips, as the green fire swallowed her she saw Bella's face, her love's beautiful, tragic, achingly lovely face, heard the rushing in her blood, the sweet, pulsing whisper of Bella's voice in her body, filling her, soothing her, easing her pain, wrapping around her, Bella's low murmur coursing through her, so gentle, so pure.

"_Avada Kedavra!"_

_Bella. Bella. I love you._


	19. Epilogue

bTitle/b Blood Memory, Chapter 18/Epilogue

bTitle/b Blood Memory, Chapter 18/Epilogue

bPairing/b Lily/Bellatrix

bRating/b PG-13 for some wicked harsh misery.

bSummary/b What do you do when the world ends? Get caught and go crazy, that's what.

bWord Count/b 1475

_It is over_.

Bellatrix rocked slowly on the cold floor.

_Over over over_.

The word whispered around her, brushed past her ears, smokelike, drifting through the air, through her mouth, her nose, sank into her body.

_Over_

The girl, lying on the floor, her legs bent, her arm tucked under her. She could have been sleeping. Her face blank, open, white, beautiful. Bellatrix unable to touch her, kneeling over her, her fingers hovering over her mouth, drifting up and down her unmoving body, so still, so quiet. The Mark on her arm glowing red for a moment and fading, the blood that had made it dissolving back into the girl.

_Over_

Bellatrix screaming, curled over the girl, screaming, screaming, wordless, anguish wracking her, screaming, the pain crashing over her, screaming without sound.

_Over_

Whispering in the cold air, whispering in the girl's voice, poisoning Bellatrix, choking her.

_Over_

The Dark Lord doubled over, collapsing, vanishing in a coiling whirlwind of black sand, black smoke. His wand cold, dead, dull on the ground.

_Over_

Bellatrix standing, the boy staring at her, green eyes flashing, her eyes, the girl's eyes, still looking at her, looking through her, a jagged line running down his forehead. The boy still living, Bellatrix seeing him with immeasurable hate, jealousy, violence, rage, agony, he still living, the girl dead.

_Over_

Stumbling out of the house, down the dark street, her face bloody, her body broken, her eyes opaque, frozen, her breath ragged, her throat raw, she ran numbly, she ran without direction, she ran, she ran, desperate to escape the swallowing blackness of the house, desperate to escape the seeping, racing, devouring cold that emanated from the girl's body and followed her as she ran, it pulled at her skirts, it tugged at her flesh, it froze the ground behind her, branches snapped as she ran, her breath white smoke before her.

_Over_

Falling hard to the ground, feeling nothing, acute nothingness, emptiness, a great yawning chasm ripping her apart, sucking her down, pulling her to the ground, the rushing coldness catching her, sliding gently over her, wrapping itself around her, her consciousness ebbing, a soothing heaviness filling her, snow falling silently on her body, covering her, burying her.

_Over_

Lifted gently out of the snow, carried an impossibly long distance, away, away, taking her far from her lover's body, taking her far from her Lord, Bellatrix knowing only cold, only bloodless, vacant ache, only the soft whisper of the girl's voice as it drifted, as it keened through her.

_Over_

Featureless faces slipping across her blank landscape, hands reaching out, hands trying to touch her, yet Bellatrix felt no fingers on her flesh. Voices muttering, indistinguishable, playing low counterpoint to the word, to the voice so near her ear, so close she could almost feel the girl's breath, could almost feel.

_Over_

More voices, louder, harsh, pressing in on the delicate vapor of the girl's, the voices pressing on her, the girl's body so fragile, so still, the boy alive, the boy breathing, her Lord vanished, everything gone, everything dust, everything empty.

_Over_

Then the room, the same cold that had followed her, the same cold twisting around her, the same cold choking her, pulling at her, consuming her.

The girl's voice louder, screaming, the girl screaming for her, crying out her name, the girl with her, under her, in her, writhing against her and screaming her name, the girl's body so hot against her skin, the girl's blood trying to force its way out, to spill itself, the girl whimpering, moaning, the girl loving her, the girl's voice so keen in her ear, the girl's mouth on hers, but it was cold, it was so cold, as the girl leaned over her the rushing coldness stabbed at her, dug into her, the voice wavered, faded, the girl's fingers pulling away, the cold piercing, sucking the girl out of her.

Bellatrix's blood pounding through her body, the girl's blood still burning in her veins, the bond unbroken, the girl still tethered to her, still alive within her.

She would come, she would stand before her, she would reach out to her with slim white hands, she would sing through Bella's body, close, close, her blood flaring, the hands would brush over her face, smooth, cool, and vanish.

Bellatrix slamming her head against the walls of her cell, splitting her lip, her cheek, raising her chained hands to catch the blood, to let it fall on her tongue, to taste her, to remember.

The cold coming then, bearing down on her, freezing the ruby stains on her skin, the ferocious, living cold drawing the girl's warmth from her, swallowing it.

She was fracturing, she was fracturing, the pieces of the girl were splitting, were becoming lost. The aching absence growing, bleeding into her, pushing the girl's blood deeper and deeper into her, farther and farther from her reach. She was becoming absence, she was becoming nothing, was being replaced with sharp coldness, with insensible whispers, with deep, roiling insanity.

The girl still coming to her, still standing before her, still holding out her pale hand, she was beckoning her, was running her fingers over the bloodline binding them. Bellatrix desperate for the girl to pull, to rip it out of her, to pull her across the abyss that separated them, desperate for death, for the coldness to stop, for the girl's soft, echoing murmur to stop, for silence, for release.

_Over_

Bellatrix slamming her head against the walls of her cell, splitting her lip, her cheek, raising her chained hands to her throat, twisting the chain around her neck, the girl's blood coursing down her skin, no coldness drawing her breath out of her, no frozen hand gripping at her core, no wordless whisper hissing in her ear. Bellatrix twisting her wrists behind her head, tightening the chain, the girl shimmering before her, flickering, fading, There was nothing. There was only blank despair, Bellatrix dropping her hands, blood still hot on her cheek, no longer aware of it, only the vastness of grief fracturing her, dividing her, making her into equal parts of loss and madness, the girl no longer appearing but her soft voice still humming in her ear, incessant, unchanging, one word.

_Over_

Twisting now, mocking, victorious, sinister and vicious, the girl's voice a parody of itself, a parody of Bella's failure, hissing in her ear, swelling, cascading, reverberating off the walls, growing thin, high, cold, pitiless.

His voice now, the girl's voice nearly extinguished by His malicious rasp, Him sliding over her torn skin, His word low, then so impossibly loud, Bellatrix slamming her head against the walls of her cell, Bellatrix screaming to drown Him out, the cold forcing its way through her, His mutter sinking in through the cracks, filling the empty spaces with His presence, making her twist, making her writhe, making her scratch at her flesh, making her tear at herself, the voice roaring behind her pushing her down, pushing her deep, deep, drowning her in madness.

_Over_

Failure crashing over her, failure like the girl's face, His face, they were spinning through the jagged parts of her mind, they were splintering, were piercing her, her blood spilling out of her, gathering on her chains, pooling on the floor, Bellatrix drawing her fingers through it, writing their names on the stone walls, distorted, violent, senseless.

His words shifting, changing, his voice rippling through the cold air, beginning to whisper to her, to punish her, to remind her of her loyalty, her duty, to hold her disappointment up to her, His voice whispering to her of retribution, of atonement, Bellatrix slamming her head against the walls of her cell, blood sacrifices staining her skin.

It was over. The girl fragmented, distorted, ugly in her mind, the girl's face, the girl's body the jutting shards of Bella's failure, His voice sinister in her ear, His power growing, His power beginning to overtake the cold, to become it, to suffuse her with malevolent longing, with feral desire, with the penetrating atmosphere of blood and emptiness.

She was nothing. She was Him again, she was His servant, the girl a shattered memory, the heavy, dull blade of disappointment, His voice the hissing promise of repentance. She would serve Him. She was waiting.


End file.
